Bride of the Beast

Chapter Fifteen

Abauna stared at the empty space left by her groom. Something was amiss.

And what was this stinging embarrassment in her chest? She’d done nothing wrong. Nothing that any other bride wouldn’t do.

Upon waking, she was overcome with all sorts of feelings about their situation. But it was his familiar face that conjured a well of gratitude within her. She was thankful for the male she’d been given. Such a thoughtful one, who never considered her lesser. Who went above and beyond to make her feel better when she was having a bad day.

He was a good groom, providing for them. He spent much time searching the Barren for things they might need, all while helping her repair and clean the hut. And she’d not been hungry since the first night.

Yes, she was pleased with him.

But was he pleased with her?

Waking to him made her want to get closer. Made her want to be rid of that blasted pillow he insisted on keeping between them. She’d only wanted to touch him—and hadn’t he wanted that too?

She knew he did.

Even if he hadn’t told her so, his reaction would have confirmed it.

But… when she pushed farther, wanting more, when she kissed him…

His purr had ceased.

The purr he didn’t even know he had until her.

As much as it excited her to cause it, it was devastating to cause it to stop.

When she heard the cabin door close, she rose to follow him. She had to know what caused him to practically run from their bed like it was dangerous.

Quickly donning shoes, she eased outside just as he was hurrying past the treeline, heading for the springs. He’d dropped his tunic at the doorway, no doubt intending to return for it later, after he’d seen to whatever business was so important. She picked it up, folding it into her gown as she took careful steps to remain silent.

When she reached the springs, she kept herself hidden behind one of the massive boulders, peeking over the top to see her groom had lost his trousers and was standing knee deep in the wading pool, his back to her.

She could see that the fur she was coming to love so much indeed covered his entire body, even his toned buttocks. He stood with his legs wide, hips pushed forward, head rolling back to the sky, and his hand…

Abauna gasped.

His hand was at his waist, quick movements telling her all she needed to know about what had happened in their bed.

A flood of emotions battered her.

Why would he hide this, his need? From her, his bride?

She was meant to know of it. And not only that, satisfy it. It was her duty as his bride to provide relief. He had grown needy under her touch, but instead of letting her take care of him… he’d escaped to the falls to do it himself.

The realization sent an unwelcome bitterness through her. She felt as if… as if this privilege had been stolen from her. Not out of spite, she was certain. Her groom was innocent of malice.

She thought back on their agreement:

“You expect me to continue as your wife?”she had asked.

“Only in the ways you wish. I will never require you to go further.”

Did he think she wouldn’t want to relieve him?

Maybe that was true in the beginning, but much had changed between them. Even now, as she watched him pleasure himself, hips jerking forward to meet each movement of his hand, there was a stirring deep inside her. A tingling at her center that caused her cheeks to burn hot. She wanted…

What did she want?

She pressed her thighs together, hoping to stem the new ache forming there, but it didn’t cease.

She wanted… to touch him again. Bring back his purr.

She wanted to let her hand wander lower and find his need on her own. How might he have reacted then?

She wanted to kiss him more.

What if it’s not you he wants?The thought wouldn’t cease, even though she knew he enjoyed her touch. He said so. But the idea that he might wish she was someone different, someone better fitting, reminded her of life in the Hold.

Rolan groaned loud and the sound shot straight to her sex, nearly drawing a moan from her lips. She watched as he went rigid, buttocks flexed tight, and even though she couldn’t see his manhood, she new the moment his pleasure spiked and he released. His spend shot forward in a quick arc—once, twice, three times—landing in the pool before him.

Then it was over.

He stood there, catching his breath while hers had left her entirely.

She pressed a hand to her burning cheek to cool it, but the rest of her still smoldered.

In the folds of her gown, she felt the slight weight of his tunic, and an idea struck her. Maybe she’d have to be more obvious about her intentions with him. Perhaps if she made it clear she was ready to meet his needs, he’d rely on her next time.

And maybe… well, maybe he would relieve hers as well.

***

Rolan spent much of the day foraging the Barren. Shirtless, in fact, because he didn’t return to the hut for it in order to avoid any questions his bride might have.

He couldn’t answer them. Not without making them both uncomfortable.

So, he’d continued about his duties with nothing but the fur on his back and trousers.

The humidity of the forest was thick, and by the time he returned home, he was drenched with sweat and dust. He’d need to bathe before he sat down to dinner with his female.

But first he had to unload the goods he’d found and grab fresh trousers.

Entering the hut, he stopped just inside the door, his breath stalling on the exhale.

Abauna stood at the cookstove, back to him, stirring a bubbling pot of something that smelled like stew. But unlike other days he’d returned home to her, she wasn’t wearing her normal attire—a gown that covered her from shoulder to wrist and collarbone to toe.

The clothing they found in the hut was different from what they left the Hold with. The fabric lighter and more fibrous, as if made from plantlife instead of heavy metals. But the designs were the same. Long gowns, tunics, and trousers.

Today, his bride wore a tunic and nothing else.

His tunic, to be exact. The one he left outside.

Why did that make him want to puff out his chest? Prance around like a proud Vegoth might after battle?

Turning, she greeted him with a smile. “Hello, groom. How was your day?”

“Abundant,” he answered.

His eyes took her in as she moved around the space, gathering bowls and utensils.

The shirt was so large that it hung low, revealing one dainty shoulder. He was momentarily dazed, imagining dragging his lips across her skin there, up to her ear, where he would whisper sweet things that made her cheeks pinken.

If she was fully his, it’s what he would do. There would be no hesitation. When he wanted to love her body, he would.

“You don’t mind do you?” Her voice interrupted his thoughts.

“What?”

“You don’t mind that I’m wearing your tunic? You left this by the door this morning and it looked more comfortable than my gowns.”

Rolan shook his head. “What’s mine is yours, wife.”

Her responding smile knocked the air from his lungs. She was in a fine mood.

“Wonderful. Because I very much like your clothing.” She spun in a quick circle, kicking one foot up behind her. “I don’t know if my legs have ever felt so free without a gown covering them.”

He swallowed hard when he realized just how little of her shapely legs the tunic covered. Maybe he should tell her he did mind. Because her dressing in such a way was going to be torture. How many times could he release in one day before his shame did him in? How long before he accidentally touched her and got stung when she deemed it unwelcome?

Still, he couldn’t deny her the use of his clothing. She could ask him for his own head on a platter and he’d give it to her.

He was smitten beyond repair.

Especially after the kiss. It was barely a hint, but knowing the sweetness of her mouth was a whole new torture.

He wished she’d do it again.

No, he didn’t. Because his body couldn’t be trusted.

“Dinner is almost ready,” she said, removing the pot from the heat. “It only needs to cool some.”

He cleared his throat to make sure his voice worked. “I need to wash first. The forest was damp today.”

Her brow lifted as she looked at him. “I’ll go with you then.”

He felt his frown before it registered on his face.

“With me? To bathe?”

She nodded, but her eyes cut away. “Of course. I have need of the hot spring anyway.”

He didn’t question her further. The last time he thought she meant for them to bathe together, he’d been wrong.

At the springs, she didn’t argue when he offered to wash behind the falls and leave her with the heated pool. And when he grew hard thinking about her dipping beneath the steamy water with nothing covering her body, he’d managed to ignore his need until it faded.

After bathing she changed back into her gown. Again, he noticed the odd way she carried the used clothing back to the hut—bundled, almost like she hid something—but he didn’t ask about it.

When they’d eaten and settled into bed, she surprised him by removing the pillow he kept between them.

“I don’t think we need this anymore, do you?”

He opened his mouth to argue—he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t accidentally touch her in the middle of the night—but before he could, she moved closer, curling herself against his chest.

His purr started instantly.

But… where would he put his arms?

She answered his unspoken question by nudging them open until they fell around her.

Oh, she felt good in his hold. Small, but weighty. And warm.

But how far could he go? What were the limits?

“Can I…” He swallowed down his trepidation. “Can I hold you tighter, bride?”

“Yes. I would like that.”

She would like that. His heart soared.

He fell asleep quickly, with her tucked against him. But sometime in the middle of the night, he became aware of a wetness near his hips.

Blinking awake, he eased away from her to investigate the source. Even in the dimness of the room, it wasn’t hard to see the bright red stain on the front of his bride’s gown, and his stomach heaved with dread.

Blood.

“Bride? Bride, wake.” He shook her, forcing himself to be gentle when panic had him close to insanity. But she didn’t stir except to murmur for him to hush.

“Bride, please,” he pleaded, feeling hot tears prick at his eyes. “I’ve harmed you. I don’t know how but I’ve… I’ve hurt you badly… oh, Ancients, help me.” He tried to sit up, but they were so entangled, he was afraid to move and hurt her worse. “I was careful… I swear I was careful.”

He must have done something in his sleep, when he was unaware. He would never cause this kind of injury to her on purpose. Never. They must know it.

Something in his voice finally stirred her and she came awake, a look of confusion on her sleep drowsy face.

“What’s wrong?”

“You are hurt, bride,” he repeated. “I have caused you to bleed.”

Her eyes went wide, sleep no longer evident in them.

“What?”

“You are bleeding,” he croaked through his swollen throat.

She looked down at her gown, a small cry slipping from her throat before she flung herself away from him.

“Did it get on you?”

“What?”

She stood from the bed, ripping back the sheets to examine them, but the blood seemed contained to her gown.

“Did it get on you, groom?”

What did it matter? She needed to move carefully until they found the wound. But it was so much blood. More than when he’d opened his side at the wall.

He stood too, already moving for the cabinet that held the bandages and disinfectant. He tried to recall the steps she’d taken when she patched him up. The disinfectant first, very important, and then the bandage. Ancients help me…

“I can fix you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “We have all we need. Sit, bride. I will be as careful as I can, and you can talk me through it. Remind me how to apply the bandage, yes?”

“Rolan, wait—”

“It will stick to your skin so there’s no need to trim the adhesive.” He froze as a thought occurred to him. “I don’t know stitches. How will I sew you—”

“I won’t need stitches.”

“You don’t know that. Sit, please. A-and lift your gown so we can—”

“It’s my monthly,” she blurted. “I’m not injured.”

He stopped pulling things from the cabinet, turning to stare at her. Her cheeks were the color of the fruit he’d given her yesterday.

“I don’t understand.”

She looked away and he noticed the skin of her neck was also hot with color.

“Females bleed once a month if they aren’t with child.”

Rolan blinked at this information, stunned to his core. He’d never heard of such a thing. Why didn’t they tell him of this when he was readying to become a groom? It seemed like a pertinent thing to know.

“But… but from where?” he asked, trying to make sense of the stain on her gown. Near her belly, but a little lower.

“We bleed from our…” Abauna covered her face with her hands as she said the rest. “From between our legs.”

“Your sex bleeds?”

She nodded and lowered her hands.

He tried to imagine how he’d feel if his cock bled, a shiver rolling over him.

“Can it be stopped?”

“No. It lasts a few days and then goes away on its own.”

“Only to return in a month’s time?”

Again, she nodded.

“So… there’s no wound? I didn’t harm you in our sleep?”

“No,” she whispered. “I’ve only leaked. Probably because I was on my side. Did… did it get on you?”

She seemed afraid of his answer, but he wouldn’t mind a little of her blood. Especially if it came from… such a special place.

Looking down, he examined himself, finding no blood except…

“Only on my hand,” he said. “From when I tried to check you.”

Her shoulders slumped with relief. “And none on the bed. This is good. I can clean this up quickly.”

“I will help you—”

“No,” she said sharply before trying again softer. “Wash your hands and I will do the rest.”

He wasn’t about to argue with her now. Not when he was still shaking from the adrenaline of thinking he hurt her, and reeling from what he’d learned about females and their bleeding private places.

After washing his hands, he waited for her in the bed, listening intently as she worked at the basin in the other room to clean herself up. He only breathed easily when she returned, wearing a fresh gown and carrying the thick book they’d found when they arrived at the hut.

Climbing into bed beside him, she gave him a weary smile.

“Are you… okay?” she asked, her voice careful. “I know that frightened you.”

The lump in the back of his throat grew with her concern, until his eyes burned again.

“I never wish to hurt you, bride. I thought I had.”

She was quiet, her eyes taking in his rigid form and coming to the same understanding he had: sleep wouldn’t find them easily now.

“Would you like me to read to you?” She tilted her head toward the book, her expression hinting of excitement. “The entire story is translated into symbols, and long ago, people would read to youngsters to make them sleepy. I think we should try it.”

He wasn’t convinced it would work, but he’d deny her nothing.

“I would like to listen to you read, bride.”

She grinned, reclining back on the bed and propping the book on her chest. He turned on his side to face her while she found the necessary page.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

She lowered the book to look at him.

“Yes, but not like a normal bleed. It hurts from inside where the womb is.”

He didn’t like that, his female in pain. But it explained her reasons for being cross.

“Is there anything I can do to ease it?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully before nodding.

“Warm pressure helps. You could rub your hand over my belly.”

His gaze lifted to hers. “That would help?” His touch could ease her aches?

She nodded, taking his hand and placing it low on her abdomen. “Right here.”

He rubbed gentle circles, testing to see if she flinched.

“A little harder,” she said, and he let the weight of his arm rest at her hip as he increased the pressure.

“Like this?”

She sighed. “Just like that.”

A sense of pride filled him until he was ready to burst from it. His touch made his bride better. There could be no greater feeling in the world.

Contentment settled over him as she began reading from the book, and he wondered how many pages they’d even need.

“The boy with the fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way towards the lagoon…”