Soul in Darkness

by Wendy Higgins

  “Well, you beat me soundly,” she said, tapping the board. “I never was great at stones.”

  “Let us play something you enjoy more,” I suggested.

  “Oh, I enjoy it just fine,” she told me with a laugh. “I don’t mind losing. But I had best get back to the kitchens.” She patted my hand and took the tray with her.

  “Do you need help in the kitchens?” I asked, desperate not to be alone.

  “Certainly not!” This time she patted my head. “You relax and enjoy the day.”

  If only I could enjoy it. Too much relaxation all by yourself was a bore. Still, I stood and walked toward the hills, going about my daily routine and finding comfort in it.

  Do not take it for granted.

  The day passed slowly. I even napped in a treetop, waking to find myself protected in a bed of twined branches. They hadn’t wanted me to fall out. As always, I kissed the trunks before I left them.

  Back in my room, the animals crashed on the bed from running and wrestling all day, and I climbed into a hot bath. Like yesterday, I had a heightened awareness of my body. My husband had awakened my womanhood, opening a new world to be explored. The idea fascinated me, bringing about opposing feelings of shyness and excitement. I ran my hands over my silken, wet skin. As I got to the place where his fingers had been last night, I heard a rustle in my bedroom: the window opening.

  I went still, listening to Mino’s whimpers of excitement, and my husband chucking in a low voice, saying, “Yes, boy, Papa is home.”

  Papa is home.

  And if I weren’t already feeling pliable, those words melted me into mush.

  “Is your mother in the bath?” he said, making Mino yip and cry in that happy puppy way of his. “Oh, you think I should go see for myself, do you?”

  I bit my lip, nervousness flooding me as I covered my chest and crossed one knee over the other. Silly, I know, since he had already seen me naked, but it felt different in the bright light of day.

  His footsteps sounded deliberate, as if he wanted to make sure I knew he was coming, and then his voice came to me from the open doorway.

  “Mm. Good day?” How could such simple words feel like molten sensuality to my ears? I stared at the seemingly empty doorway, marveling at how thoroughly I could feel him.

  “It was fine.”

  “Just fine?” He sounded closer now, and I closed my eyes when his hand brushed the wet hair back from my shoulder.

  “Lonely.”

  He quietly brushed my hair from the other shoulder and began to massage them. I let out a small groan of pleasure as his fingers kneaded my muscles with the perfect amount of pressure.

  “I told Renae she could join you. Did she?”

  “We played a game of stones, but she couldn’t stay long. And, of course, she cannot open up to me, so…”

  “So, you are lonely.”

  Yes. But I wanted to be positive. “I am better now.” I reached up to touch his hand. All at once I remembered the rule as he hissed, and his hands left my shoulders. I sank lower, pulling both my hands into my chest and making an anguished sound.

  “I am sorry!” I said. “I’m so sorry. I forgot.” I had not touched him, but my whole body shook, making the surface of the water ripple.

  “That was close,” he whispered, and I swore I heard anguish in his own voice, as well.

  “I will be more careful,” I promised, still hugging my hands under my chin.

  He touched my head. “No harm was done.”

  The water felt cold now. I stood on unsteady legs, still covering my chest, and he handed me my wrap.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. I dried myself quickly, but when I headed for the closet to dress, my husband’s warm mouth caressed my ear.

  “Is that necessary? For you to dress?”

  I flushed, clinging to the soft cloth around me. “Are you clothed?”

  “Do you wish me to be unclothed?”

  My face was on fire. “Well.” I swallowed. “It seems only fair.”

  He paused for a moment before I heard the rustle of clothing, and then a soft thwap. My eyes widened as his pile of clothes became visible on the floor: a rich brown chiton, pleated neatly and edged in thick, gold thread. It was large, the size that would accommodate a tall, muscular man. Two sizeable sandals landed on top.

  I covered my mouth to hide the wide smile.

  “Happy?” he asked huskily.

  Mino jumped down from the bed and ran to the pile of clothes, taking a sandal into his mouth and shaking it.

  “Oh, no!” I giggled with surprise.

  “Mino,” my husband said. “Sleep.”

  The puppy dropped the sandal and flopped down right on the discarded chiton, falling fast asleep. My eyebrows went up. “That is useful.”

  “Will you sleep in your wet towel?” he asked.

  “Is it time to sleep?” The room went dark and my heart jumped. “I see. All right. Then, I suppose I can get rid of this.” I tossed the damp cloth in the vicinity of the bathroom entrance. I was jittery, pretending to be confident, but I was certain he could perceive my nervousness.

  “Your gloves,” he said. I felt them against my hands and took them, sliding them on. “But do not let them give you a false sense of security. You must get in the habit of keeping your hands to yourself.”

  I nodded, but silently pouted.

  “Now, now,” he said, and then took my plumped-out lip between his teeth before taking my mouth with his. I fisted my hands at my sides, trying really hard to focus on not touching him, even though everything inside me said to throw my arms around his neck and pull him closer.

  He walked me backward until my back was against the wall, and kissed me soundly, our tongues and bodies rubbing. I gasped when I felt his hard length pressing along my middle, my whole body alighting at the knowledge that we were naked together, and I had an effect on him.

  As we kissed, he turned me toward the bed, placing my back to him, and guiding my hands to the bed so that I was bending over. Then he kissed a path down my back, over my hips and bottom, until his face found my place of need. He positioned my feet wider.

  I nearly collapsed at the feel of his tongue, so warm and perfect, sliding up the delicate folds of my core. He held my hips as I cried out, grasping the blankets in my fists, pressing back for more. As a scorching heat built between my legs, an emotion so intense I could hardly contain it welled up inside me, and I called out.

  “Wait.”

  He rose, and I sensed his face beside mine. I continued to grasp the bedding in my hands. I was so tired of being afraid. Of holding back. My husband, this being, had more than proven himself to me. I wanted more—to give more, to receive more—I wanted it all.

  “Tell me what you want, Psyche. Tell me how you feel.”

  “I…I want you.” I said it out loud. It felt surreal.

  “Are you inviting me into the bed, Psyche?” An air of masculine arrogance rose up, and I pulled my lips to the side, remembering how many times he assured me I would do just that.

  “Yes. I am ready to be your wife in every way,” I murmured. “Bed me.”

  With a great growl of victory, he took my hips and lifted me onto the bed, then lay me back and began kissing me again, lifting my arms over my head so he could kiss down my neck, lavishing both of my breasts with his mouth. I was a sopping, mewling mess by the time he nested on top of me.

  My blood was hot, and my skin hummed in anticipation. I waited for him to align himself with me, but he continued to kindle the fire within me until I was ready to overheat.

  “Please, Husband,” I begged.

  Then he flipped us so that I was on top, and my arms raised into the air as if suspended by ropes from the ceiling—not uncomfortable, but definitely secure.

  “You will be in control, Psyche. Your timing. Your speed. It will hurt less this way.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said, bashful at the thought of taking control. I was sitting across hi
s abdomen, his manhood laying heavy against my lower back. The thought of what was about to happen made me tremble. His hands rested firmly on my waist.

  “I will guide you. Raise up onto your knees.”

  I did as he said, my breaths coming in short bursts.

  “Shh,” he murmured. I felt his hand move to grasp himself, and with his other hand he moved me back until he was lined up with me. He held my hip tightly as he ran the tip of himself back and forth up my slit, which was already slick for him. Then I sank down a tiny bit, shocked at the pressure. I pushed a bit more until he slid past my entrance. We both cried out and he tightened his grip on my hips.

  “Psyche…” It was a plea.

  My knees clenched around his waist and I sank further, leaning forward to get a more comfortable angle.

  “Gods,” I breathed heavily, working my way down the length of him until he was fully inside my body, filling me. In that moment I felt as if he were touching every single part of me.

  My husband let out a string of gorgeous, unearthly words that went straight to my head. He sounded overwhelmed with awe and pleasure, exactly as I felt.

  He gave a small buck of his hips as if begging me to move, so I did, tentatively at first, and then with more confidence as I found a pleasing rhythm and an angle that rubbed perfectly against my most sensitive spot.

  I breathed, moaning words, wishing so desperately that I could touch him. His hands roamed enough for both of us, and his hips circled in a way that complimented my movements. Together we pressed and slid and moved our bodies. As good as the other night had been when we’d rubbed through our clothing, this was a million times better, his body inside of mine, touching parts of me I didn’t know existed, pleasurable spots that overrode any twinges of discomfort and stretching.

  As I felt the pleasure at my center building, I moved faster, sounds escaping my throat. A wildness overtook me, and I couldn’t hold it back.

  “Husband…I…I…”

  “Yes,” he ground out.

  I completely let go, his strong hands holding me against him as I let out a surprising yell, my entire abdomen seizing with clenching, delectable madness. Over and over I pulsed around him until the waves got smaller and I wanted to collapse.

  His voice was tight. “I have never been more thankful for my ability to see in the darkness.”

  And with that comment, he held my waist tighter as his own hips rocked up and I felt his thickness throb hard inside of me. I moaned in small spurts, unexpected bouts of pleasure hitting me all over again as he pumped upward until we were both spent.

  He sat up, still inside of me, and my legs twined around his back. My arms remained in the air as he kissed me, wrapping his arms around me. We were both lightly sweating. I could not believe it. We had consummated our marriage, and it had been me who asked for it, just as he’d promised I would. But the moment left no room for fear or suspicion.

  “What do you feel?” he asked. “Tell me your exact thoughts.”

  “I am happy,” I said, still trying to catch my breath, surprised to find I was truly happy in that moment.

  “Happy.” He sounded…disappointed, which sent me into a tailspin of worry.

  “What do you wish me to say, Husband? I am glad. It was wonderful.”

  His forehead touched mine and he placed a gentle kiss on my lips. “Happy is good.” But he didn’t sound as if that were true. He’d wanted a different response.

  “I’m sorry if I have displeased you,” I said.

  “Never.”

  My hands were released, and he lifted me from his lap, making us both gasp. He turned me so that my back was to his chest and we were snuggling on our sides. He held me tight, and I wished more than anything he could tell me what he was thinking and feeling too.

  He kissed my neck and whispered, “Happy,” as if tasting the word. “You have given me a gift,” he whispered.

  I wanted to touch him more than ever—to turn and take his face and tell him I’d been given a gift, as well—but there was something almost sad and desperate in the way he held me so hard. I couldn’t help but feel that we were running out of time, and I was missing the bigger image of this game we were stuck in.

  We were husband and wife now, in every way. I’d faced my fears and overcome them. He had earned my trust. So, what was I missing?

  HAPPY

  Despite the wonders of last night and feeling connected to my husband in ways I’d never been with another soul, this day was my worst one yet. I felt beyond alone. When I sat on the hill and cried, Mino sensed my sadness and climbed onto my lap, licking my cheeks with his ears back.

  “Oh, you sweet boy. You know I am sad, don’t you?” I petted his head, holding him close. “I am so glad I have you.” When my tears dried, he bounded away after a white moth.

  I curled up in a ball on the side of the hill and stayed there, losing all track of time as I reminisced about home and my loved ones. What was life without other people? Even when they drove me mad, I still wanted them in my life. I’d rather be in a rundown shack surrounded by the people I loved than to be in a palace alone.

  Tears found me off and on throughout the day as I lay there feeling sorry for myself, and then hating myself for being pitiful. Why couldn’t I snap out of this despair? I wished my husband did not have to work. I wished he could stay with me throughout the day, or I could accompany him. But that was not right. I had always been independent. To feel as if I needed him here with me to be happy was wrong.

  I stood, shaking out my arms and breathing deeply. This was no time to lose myself. Everything was going to be fine. It had to be.

  For the rest of the afternoon I did my best to stay busy and remain positive. I counted the good things about my life, taking note of every tiny comfort. It got me through the day without any more tears. But when the windows of my room opened wide and I felt my husband’s presence whoosh in, I ran to him, clasping my hands behind my back, needing his touch.

  My cheek found his chest and I pressed against him, closing my eyes. He was very still for a moment, as if surprised, and then his arms went around me. I felt his lips on top of my head.

  “Has something happened?”

  “No,” I said. “I just missed you.”

  “Psyche.” He sounded sad, and he kissed my head again.

  “Make it dark,” I begged.

  He did it without question. I went up on my toes, tipping my face to his, and he took my lead, kissing me deeply. His hands held my upper arms, pulling me closer while helping to keep my hands down. It was torture not to touch him.

  “Take me to the bed,” I whispered against his mouth.

  One of his hands lifted to cup my face. “Are you certain nothing happened?”

  “I am certain, Husband. I just need you.”

  He questioned me no more, unclasping the pin at my shoulder and tugging down my soft stola until it fell to the floor. My gloves appeared at my fingertips and I quickly pulled them on. We kissed fervently as he backed me up to the bed, then lifted me so that I was sitting on the edge as he leaned against me, still clothed, his fine fabric nuzzling my nakedness.

  “I have been worthless today,” my husband said, sliding lower to cup my breasts and take one into his mouth. My head fell back, and I grabbed the edge of the bed. “I have done nothing but think of you.”

  “Now you are here,” I said. “And you can do more than think.”

  He grabbed my waist and threw me onto the bed with inhuman strength. I bounced and smiled, so damned happy to have him there with me. So happy to be feeling something good, something that wiped out all other thoughts. So happy he was more than willing to comply.

  “I want you in control this time,” I told him as I fisted the bedding at my sides, arching my back as he kissed my belly button. “I trust you.”

  Those words made him growl and hold me tighter, nipping my skin with his teeth before coming up to kiss me again. I moaned when I realized he was naked above me. My legs
opened, wrapping around his strong hips, feeling his thighs and manhood against me.

  “Please,” I begged, trying to move my hips.

  He chuckled. “I need to ready you.”

  “I am ready.”

  His hand dipped down between us and he made a deeply masculine sound in the back of his throat when he felt how wet I was. I blushed, wondering if he thought me too wanton.

  “Is that…shameful?”

  “Never.”

  He grasped my wrists and yanked them over my head as he pushed into me, my whole body contracting, overcome. My feet wrapped around him to hold myself steady as he rocked above me, pulling nearly all the way out, then pushing back into me with forceful thrusts. The friction, and the way he dominated me made me breathe loudly, whimpering affirmative sounds as I was caught between mild pain and the promise of wild bliss.

  “I want to touch you,” I begged.

  “No.” His teeth clamped on my neck, his tongue hot as he pulled his mouth away.

  “Please…oh, gods, let me touch you.”

  But he only held my wrists tighter, tugging my arms up, pounding harder into me, faster, rocking us. All at once my core ignited, sending sparks through my limbs, causing my body to jerk beneath him, and my throat to release every blissful, animalistic sound inside me. But this time, he was right there with me, his pleasure spilling into me, our bodies reaching and grabbing and holding tight to every sensation. And nothing in the world was more sensual than the sounds he made against my ear, his heated honey scent sliding over me. It took a long while for us to both settle down.

  “I was not very gentle,” he said in a low rumble of remorse.

  “It was just as I wanted,” I assured him.

  Tears slid from the corners of my eyes as I tried to catch my breath. He kissed one side of my face, brushing away the tears with his lips, and then the other.

  “Your feelings, Psyche,” he breathed.

  “Happy,” I whispered. “So happy.”

  He sighed, his head sinking into the bedding beside my head, his body heavy above me. And once again, I had a feeling my response was not what he wanted to hear. A moment of panicked hopelessness seized me. I had given him my body. I had given him my trust. I had come to rely on him and to feel happiness with him, but it was not enough.