“I believe she should be in the second stage of Scintil by now.” Xen’dex shook his head. “If the nectar doesn’t being to flow soon, you may have to do something else to stimulate it.”
“Besides massaging her? What can I do?” Tragar demanded. He was glad that the table was wide and the females across from them were completely immersed in their own conversation—he had a feeling Emily wouldn’t like knowing he was discussing this with his old master at all.
Xen’dex sighed and looked troubled.
“You may have to suck her peaks—just enough to get the nectar flowing.”
“What?” Tragar shook his head. “But that’s forbidden! To suck the nectar from a Khalla’s peaks…It is unthinkable.”
“Sometimes the unthinkable is necessary,” Xen’dex murmured. “And the rule against the sucking of nectar was not always in place—it is actually a fairly recent decree. Only in the past hundred cycles has it been considered forbidden.”
“Truly?” Tragar raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was prohibited by the Goddess herself.”
Xen’dex shook his head. “Not by the Goddess—by her Mouthpiece. The High Priestess and Head of the Holy Council.”
“That’s the same thing,” Tragar objected. “For surely the Mouthpiece of the Goddess would not say anything the Goddess had not given her to say. I cannot suck the nectar from Emily’s breasts—it is wrong!”
“It didn’t used to be considered so,” Xen’dex argued softly. “According to some very ancient texts I have studied, the chosen mate of the Khalla-to-be would suck her peaks and partake of her nectar regularly. It created a bond between them which would never form otherwise.”
“That was then—this is now,” Tragar objected. “All of my life I have been taught what a blasphemy it was for a male to let more than a drop or two of the Khalla’s sacred nectar to pass his lips.”
“You do not have to imbibe completely. The key is to start the nectar flowing, then stop sucking—and above all, not to swallow any of the nectar itself.”
“Master, you do not understand. I have already done things with Emily…things I deeply regret.” Tragar closed his eyes briefly, remembering the remorse he had felt after beating her with his belt. That had been bad enough. But to compound his sins by sucking her peaks until her nectar filled his mouth…no, he could not do it.
No man was worthy of such an honor—not even the Khalla’s chosen mate. It was frowned on by the Holy Council in the Holy Mountains—not just frowned on but outright condemned. Any male who did such a thing was a heretic—a blasphemer. Of course, after renouncing the Goddess, Tragar was already both those things. But he couldn’t shake the idea that what Xen’dex was suggesting was wrong.
“The nectar must be allowed to flow freely,” he pointed out. “It may be tested for sweetness but no more than a drop or two must pass a male’s lips.”
“Yes, if it will flow in the first place,” Xen’dex said in a low voice. “But if the star-silver has thickened it, you may need to help. Though it is forbidden, better that you should suckle her peaks to draw it out than that your Khalla should die if it will not flow properly.”
“She could die of it?” Tragar dropped his voice to a whisper, eyeing Emily, who was laughing with Saskia about something, with deep concern. He felt a knife twist in his gut at the thought. No, she can’t die! I won’t let it happen!
“The nectar must flow,” his old master insisted grimly. “By any means possible. Outside of her body it is a healing ambrosia, filled with fertility and life. But if it remains within, unable to bless and heal, it becomes a poison to her.”
Something he had said troubled Tragar.
“What do you mean, it must flow by any means? Are you saying that even sucking may not be enough?”
“Pleasure may help as well if the sucking alone does not,” his master said obliquely. “That is all I may tell you for now. Consider that after you have gone to your sleeping chamber this night. And if you care for your Khalla as I know you do, you must do whatever is necessary to help her.”
“Yes, Master.” Tragar nodded, still watching Emily. He noticed the way her lips tightened as she moved just a little too fast…the way she bit her lip as if to hold back a gasp of pain when her heavy breasts jiggled. Obviously, she was in much more pain than she was letting on. But could he really break the ancient, sacred taboo to help her?
Yes, he thought and knew it was true. I would do anything to help her—even damn myself in the eyes of the Goddess. Though what did it matter? He was already damned after having renounced her. He would do what he had to do to help Emily and to the Seven Hells with the rest of the universe.
* * * * *
Emily sighed as she got ready for sleep. She and Tragar were going to be sharing the large bed—which Saskia had told her had indeed been grown rather than made—and Emily was afraid it was going to be awkward. Not just because she was going to be sleeping beside the big Kindred warrior and inhaling that warm, spicy scent of his all night, but also because of the strange nightgown she’d been given to wear.
“It’s made especially for a Khalla,” Saskia had said, handing it to her. “I made it, in fact, for my dear friend who was one.” She bit her lip. “Unfortunately, she never got a chance to wear it.”
“What happened to her, if you don’t mind me asking?” Emily asked quietly, taking the lovely, periwinkle blue nightgown from her new friend. “I mean, forgive me if I’m being nosy but…”
“No, tis all right.” Saskia looked down at her hands. “She did not survive her Tenrah.”
“Oh,” Emily whispered faintly. “And…does that happen often? People…Khallas die during their, uh, Shift?”
“Sometimes…” Saskia put a hand on her arm. “I didn’t want to tell you earlier because I didn’t wish to scare you—tis not my intention. Beleah, my friend, was always weak and sickly to begin with. You…you seem strong.” She smiled at Emily. “Much stronger than she was. And you have a male who cares for you.”
“Who, Tragar?” Emily tried to laugh. “He doesn’t really care—he’s just helping me because he has to. According to him a Beast Kindred is biologically unable to smell out a Khalla and not help her in any way he can.”
“It might have started like that,” Saskia said quietly. “But I don’t believe that is the case now. You should see the way he looks at you—the way he watches you, Emily. There is caring in his eyes—there is the kheer’na.”
Emily frowned. “What’s kheer’na? My translation bacteria aren’t helping with that one.”
“A kind of possessive tenderness that all Beast Kindred males feel for their mates. It was when Xen’dex admitted he felt it for me that I knew he was the one. I was mated once before you know—my first mate was a Wulven male who died in a pack war. Oh yes,” she remarked, when Emily looked at her uncertainly. “Tis true—I am older than I look. Wulven females do not show their age. To say the truth, I am older than Xen’dex. Too old, I thought, to ever be mated again but when I saw the kheer’na in his eyes, I knew I was wrong and I gave myself to him without reservation.”
“Um…” Emily coughed into her hand. “I don’t know about seeing any kheer’na in Tragar’s eyes when he looks at me. I mean, sometimes he can be kind and sweet and understanding but other times he gets so cold. And he was really angry at me when we first met up with them outside the Howlund.”
“Because he was frightened for you,” Saskia said quietly. “Because he thought he’d lost you. I never thought I would advise any female to go with a Verrak, but Emily—he loves you. Even if he does not know it yet himself.”
“If he loves me so much why is he taking me to Rageron so I can find some other guy?” Emily demanded. Just the thought of going with some strange Beast Kindred she didn’t yet know made her feel awful and wrong. Not that I’ll probably even know it at that point, she thought grimly. Not if the other has taken over my body completely.
Saskia shook her head, her long dark hair shifting o
ver one shoulder.
“I do not know. Maybe because he does not realize what he feels himself yet. But he will, Emily—he will. And you should recognize it in yourself as well.” Then she had patted Emily’s hand and stroked the periwinkle blue night gown once more, as if in parting. “Wear it in good health, Khalla,” she said softly. “And may it bring you and your chosen mate pleasure.”
Then she had glided out of the room, leaving Emily to contemplate what she had said…and the gown she was supposed to wear.
It really was a lovely color which made her no-color eyes look blue and almost pretty. But it was also strangely cut with a rounded neckline so low it fell just under the curves of her areolas and left her sensitive nipples bare. Emily couldn’t help feeling self-conscious when she put it on, even though Tragar had already seen her breasts plenty of times in the past few days.
Seen them and squeezed them and licked them, whispered that snarky little voice in the back of her head. Admit it, Emily—you’re hoping he might do more of that tonight.
Emily pushed it away. She was just wearing the clothing that had been given to her—the clothing that was fitting for someone in her condition. It wasn’t her fault that it was a bit revealing.
Well, maybe more than a bit. In addition to dipping low enough to show her nipples, the periwinkle blue gown only fell to the tops of her thighs and there were no panties to go with it. Basically, Emily felt like she was wearing an outfit picked out for a honeymoon. Something sweet and sexy at the same time—something a bride might choose to wear for her new husband.
Ha! As if Tragar would ever want to marry me! She snorted to herself. The big Kindred had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t the man for her, even if he was acting as her “chosen mate.” No matter what Saskia said about him loving her, Emily didn’t see it. She doubted he’d be getting down on one knee any time soon.
Which was one reason she felt nervous going to bed with him dressed like this.
“If only there was some kind of flower petal cape to cover it,” she muttered to herself, twisting to get a look in the 3-D viewer just inside the bathroom. “If only—ouch!”
A sharp, lancing pain—a feeling of unbearable fullness worse than anything she’d had during dinner—shot through her breasts and nipples, making her gasp and clutch at herself instinctively. Unfortunately her own touch was also incredibly painful. She cried out again, pulling her arms away from the tender peaks, and tears of agony came to her eyes.
“It hurts, doesn’t it? Hurst worse even than it did before.”
The deep voice startled her because she’d believed herself to be alone. Whirling, Emily saw Tragar standing there, a look of unmistakable concern in his golden eyes.
“I can stand it,” she said defiantly.
“Why should you?” he countered, surprising her. “Why not just let me help you?”
“You think you can?” Emily looked at him doubtfully.
“I know I can. We have to help your nectar flow.”
“But you already, uh, massaged me earlier and nothing happened,” she pointed out. Somewhere deep inside she knew that nothing had happened because of the star-silver shaft inside her. But still the hypnotic little voice in the back of her brain insisted that it shouldn’t come out.
“I know massaging didn’t help.” The big Kindred looked troubled. “Which is why…I think more extreme measures need to be taken.”
“More extreme? What do you mean?” Emily drew back from him fearfully.
“I need…forgive me, Khalla for this sacrilege, but I fear that I must suck your peaks in order to get your nectar flowing.” He looked ashamed, as though he was suggesting something deeply wrong but somehow necessary.
“Um…” Emily twisted her fingers together nervously. “But I thought…didn’t you tell me that sucking a Khalla’s nipples was forbidden?”
“It is.” He nodded gravely. “A better male than I would probably refuse to even think of such a thing. But I am not a good or deserving male—I only wish to help you. To save you.”
“To save me?” She looked at him uncertainly. “What are you saying?”
“That your nectar must flow one way or another,” he rumbled. “If not, it will become a poison inside you. Emily…” He cupped her chin firmly and looked earnestly into her eyes. “It must be allowed to flow.”
“Well…all right. But are you sure you don’t mind? I mean…you don’t think it’s kind of, well, gross?”
“To taste the nectar of a Khalla? To taste your nectar?” He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe she’d even asked such a question. “How could tasting the fullness of your breasts be anything but bliss?”
“Um…okay then. If you really don’t mind.”
“Emily,” he said seriously, catching her eyes. “What I am about to do is a forbidden fantasy. Sucking the nectar from the breasts of a Khalla is something every Beast Kindred male dreams of…yet knows he must never do. I will be committing sacrilege and yet it will be so sweet even damning my soul to the Seven Hells will be more than worth it.”
“Wow…all right then. But you really feel like it’s going to damn you? I mean, it’s that bad?”
He nodded slowly. “But do not concern yourself with that. I was damned long before I met you—damned by the sins of my past. It doesn’t bother me to add one more to my long list of transgressions, especially if it helps you survive.”
“In that case I guess we’d better get started,” Emily said as lightly as she could.
She didn’t share his conviction that allowing him to suck her nipples was deeply wrong so that part didn’t bother her. What did bother her was how much she wanted to feel his mouth on her again. As well as the fact that she didn’t want to flow like a freaking fountain, as he had described earlier. Still, there didn’t seem to be much choice about that. The aching fullness of her breasts was driving her crazy—she had to get it fixed even if it meant watering the lawn everywhere she went from now on—or at least until this stage of the Tenrah was over.
“Come then.” Tragar looked relieved that she was agreeing to this so easily. “Come back to the bed with me and let me try to ease your pain.”
“Okay.” Emily allowed him to take her hand and lead her back into the bedroom with its big flower covered bed. She expected him to sit her on the side of the bed and get down on his knees before her, as he had earlier. Instead, to her surprise, he toed off his high black boots and removed his vest. Then, wearing only his black leather trousers, he climbed into the middle of the bed and settled against the headboard, which was made of flowering vines.
“Come here,” he said and patted his lap. “Come to me, Emily.”
“Um…really? You want me to sit in your lap?” Because that seemed to be his meaning.
“It will be easier to reach you in this way,” Tragar said reasonably.
Easier for him to reach her but a hell of a lot harder for her to disguise what she was feeling when he put his mouth on her sensitive nipples…and to hide the star-silver shaft that was still lodged firmly inside her pussy.
He must not see it! whispered an insistent little voice in the back of her brain that sounded strangely familiar. He must not see it or he will want to take it out—and that must not happen!
Still, there didn’t seem to be much else she could do. Tragar was looking at her expectantly and she didn’t know how to say no.
I’ll just pull the hem of the nighty as low as it will go over my thighs, she told herself uneasily as she climbed onto the bed beside him. Which would solve the problem of hiding the shaft, but not of hiding the inevitable orgasms that were sure to wrack her body the moment he started sucking her sensitive nipples.
Emily knew she shouldn’t care anymore—after all, by this time the big Kindred had given her more orgasms than she could count. But still, he’d always been touching her from behind while he tugged and pinched her nipples. The idea of facing him and showing him her “O face” while he made her come made Emily f
eel intensely vulnerable and uncertain. But again, she didn’t see a way around it.
“Okay,” she said, climbing carefully onto the bed. She scooted next to him.
“Come here.” Tragar patted his lap again. “Straddle me. I need you close, Khalla.”
Emily had given up on trying to get him not to call her that—after all, there was no disputing what she was and what her body was going through. Biting her lip, she tugged the hem of the periwinkle blue nighty as low as she could and threw one leg over his lean hips. The movement jostled her full breasts and she gave a little moan of pain.
“All right. It’s going to be all right, my Khalla,” Tragar murmured, reaching out to cradle her full globes gently. His touch made her feel instantly better and Emily felt a little of the tension leaving her body.
“Thank you,” she said softly, settling into his lap. She could feel the big muscles of his thighs tense under her bare bottom as well as the familiar hard ridge of his cock. She didn’t move away from it though it made her cheeks burn to know she was the cause of his erection. “Um…how do we get started?” she asked, feeling awkward just sitting there.
“Sit forward a little and bring your breast to my mouth.” His deep voice was slightly hoarse and Emily couldn’t help noticing his golden eyes were half-lidded with lust. She started to raise up a little, to put her right breast to the level of his lips…but then she stopped.
“Why do you want to do this?” she blurted, unable to hold the question back. “I mean…why do you want to help me? Is it just because you’re a guy and you like boobs or what?”
“Boobs?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Um, breasts. Sorry.” Emily shook her head. “Forget I asked.”
“No, it’s a fair question,” he said unexpectedly. “One you deserve an answer to. I…” He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Earlier I told you that I was only helping you because of my reaction to your scent.”
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