Chapter 3
Strangely enough, that confession was the first thing that made sense about her.
It explained why, when he’d been seeking for her, he’d felt nothing but sorrow and pain.
It turned out that she knew nothing of who she was or how she’d come to be in that attic.
In truth, the only thing they were both certain of was that she knew he was Sánge, and that she seemed to trust him with outrageous simplicity and totality even though she apparently knew little else of the world around her.
Reule supposed she didn’t have much of a choice. He also figured that might be why she felt no revulsion or trepidation concerning his breed. Yet he wasn’t certain. If he was confused, he could only imagine how she must feel.
“My Prime, I’m certain she is warm enough now.
You ought to leave her to me and one of the girls to tend her bath and work through that hair of hers,” Pariedes said with a cluck of disapproval at his lingering behavior.
“You can save these endless questions for after she has a full belly and a decent dress on!”
The remark reminded Reule of his own intentions, and he gave the naked woman in his arms a sheepish grin.
“I did promise that, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to break my word.
” He hadn’t been able to help himself. Her confession that she did not know her name elicited a barrage of questions that he absolutely had to ask.
Did she know where she was? What she was?
How she’d gotten there? What had brought her to the point at which he’d found her?
As he asked each question, she gave a decided no or shake of her head after she gave it a moment’s thought.
Determined to do the right thing now, Reule tried to stand, gently explaining to her when she tightened her hold around his neck in refusal.
“These steps are shallow, as is all this side of the pool. You could stand and it would never go above your … chest.” He cleared his throat hastily as he skipped saying “breasts,” as if it would help him deny the feel of them against his chest. “Or you can just sit here and Para will help you to bathe. If—”
“No!” she cried, clinging to him as he gained his feet so that her legs were clamped like a vise around his waist and her arms were back to choking him about the neck.
He didn’t have to hear Para’s gasp to be aware of her shocked sensibilities.
The poor thing was so flustered, Reule could feel it buzzing all up and down his mind.
However, her emotion was nothing compared to the terror coming from the woman wrapped around him.
“No, don’t go! I don’t want you to. Reule, please.
You can bathe me, can’t you? Why do you want to leave me? ”
Reule ignored Para’s horrified squawk and looked into frightened, faceted irises. His hands curved around her waist, her silky skin wonderfully warm now.
“I’m not leaving you,” he said gently, keenly realizing the reasons why she might react in such a way.
She was either so disturbed by the idea of being abandoned that she was willing to throw away all propriety, or she came from a culture in which women behaved vastly differently than in theirs.
“I wouldn’t abandon you,” he tried to reassure her.
“I’m only going across the hall for my own bath. Para will—”
“But you can stay and bathe with me. There’s plenty of room. I won’t bother you. Or I can help you bathe!” she tacked on, clearly delighted to have come up with the inspiration.
Lord and Lady. The images she provoked appeared too quickly and far too vividly before he could head them off. Those small hands … the slippery slide of soap … his body.
Reule sat back down quickly as tight, wet fabric stretched to accommodate his blazing erection and the rush left him light-headed.
Reule sucked in a deep breath because he felt as though he wasn’t breathing.
He watched her blink at him with innocent candor.
She wasn’t bargaining her soul away to keep him there; she simply didn’t see any reason why he should leave.
She didn’t understand why they couldn’t share this large bath and bathe one another with practicality, and because she didn’t understand, she wouldn’t believe he wasn’t trying to discard her.
“Okay,” he murmured as he raised a hand to stroke gently along her collarbone.
He wasn’t agreeing to anything. Rather, he was merely preparing to be firm as he tried to find the logic that would help her to understand or trust. “kébé,” he began carefully, “it’s considered improper for men and women in this society to bathe together. ”
“But aren’t you bathing with me now?”
“I was only warming you from a bad chill.” That, he realized with an inner wince, was a bit of a lie. Whatever his reasoning, he had indeed been bathing her. “And, as you see, I’m clothed … mostly.”
She sat back, her bottom rocking provocatively against his thighs as she obediently looked down at him. The pulse of heated blood that rushed through him would’ve made a weaker man swoon. He was very nearly that weaker man, Reule thought as his heart thumped with a fury against his breastbone.
“And in your society men and women never bathe one another? Never at all?”
Reule was about to agree, but realized it would be inaccurate. “Well, sometimes if a man and woman are lovers they will share a bath or shower.”
“And that’s not improper?”
“Um … no. What lovers do in private between themselves is acceptable if both desire it.”
“Then send her away”—she jerked her head toward Para—“and we’ll become lovers. Then you’ll have no need to leave.” She gave him a satisfied smile at her own logic. Reule, meanwhile, almost choked up a lung. He’d never heard such outrageous reasoning in all of his life.
“Kébé,” he choked out, “people don’t become lovers just so they can bathe together!”
“Well, why not? They become lovers for far less practical reasons, only to regret it later.” She paused to nod after a moment’s consideration.
“I wouldn’t regret it. You’re very handsome and I can tell you desire me very much.
” She punctuated the observation by sliding her hand quickly down the front of his body and over the bulge in his breeches.
She boldly cupped his balls and cock, outlining her evidence with palm and fingers.
“I suspect you’d be an excellent mate. You’re strong and powerful, and quite Well-endowed for a male. ”
There was a resounding thud as Pariedes hit the floor in a dead faint behind them.
Reule hardly had the presence of mind to care.
He was strangling, in clothes, in reactions, and in raw heat that far outshined that of the pool.
He could feel the difference between that small, small hand and his large, engorged body, and it was devastatingly arousing.
He hated himself for feeling that, for wanting that, when he knew this was all so wrong.
Even so, he saw her eyes widen as she got a true idea of his measure and he throbbed against her seeking touch in response.
She licked her neglected lips slowly and he knew her thoughts, no telepathy necessary.
She was killing him, he thought with a groan.
He was hungry, tired, and honorable, and yet she made him ferocious with the desire to throw it all away and accept her taunting invitation.
“Kébé,” he rasped as he reached for her wrist, “you’ve been through too much to make such choices right now.
Especially when you can’t remember if …” If she already has a lover?
If she’s been raped? If…? “Besides,” he forced out in cruel reminder for them both as he placed her hand safely at his neck, “you wouldn’t want to be my lover.
I am Sánge. Outlanders don’t take Sánge for their lovers.
Though I know not which kind, you are most obviously an outlander. ”
“Why not?” she asked softly, her frown deeply troubled by the revelation. “What’s wrong with taking Sánge for lovers?”
Tension coiled through Reule instantly, clenching at every muscle in his body.
She doesn’t know. This was why she’d been so warm and accepting.
Of course she didn’t know. If she’d known, she’d have reacted with disgust just as all the others did.
He’d been foolish to expect or think otherwise.
But how to explain what she’d said the moment he’d found her?
A remnant of memory? Of nightmares? A fevered snatch of recall from a horror story about the Sánge?
“You don’t want to know,” he said sharply, his tone extremely harsh as he got up and stepped out of the water.
“Yes, I do! Tell me, please,” she begged him as she clung as tightly to him as she could.
Tell her? Could he tell her? Impossible. At the moment, he was the only anchor she had in a world torn apart by terror. If he took that trust away, replaced it with fear, who would she have?
And how could he ever explain it so she’d truly understand that the drinking of a lover’s blood wasn’t the horrifying, blasphemous act other cultures thought it was?
How to describe that moment, just before climax, when a man sank his teeth into a woman?
That instant when the essence of her very life pulsed onto his tongue, slid down his throat, and then spilled through him in the most intensely erotic sensation, so that it made his entire body clench and shudder with pleasure until he came in endless, drenching pulsations of ecstasy?
There was no delicate way to explain an act that was so intensely wonderful when he knew none but Sánge could ever really understand; could ever really accept.
If he couldn’t explain that, then he couldn’t explain the rest. Acts of body and mind beyond outlander sensibilities.
The possessiveness, the ferocity, the sheer intensity of mating with a telepathic Sánge. Especially a telepathic Sánge like him.