by Ines Johnson
Khial touched her hand briefly. "Deal." He sat down, his arm stretching along the back of the bench. The indent of her shoulder pressed into his side. He'd sat just like this with Dain an innumerable amount of times. The rightness of the intimate position unsettled him.
Chanyn's hand grasped her belly. She inhaled sharply, and her body jerked.
Ice skittered down Khial's spine. He sat up, rigid, unsure. He looked to her lap for any sign of blood. There was none. Chanyn sat still, eyes closed, cheeks puffed, holding her breath. Khial's hands braced in front and behind her, not sure if he should be prepared to lay her down or scoop her up.
Finally, she inhaled slowly. "It passed."
When she saw the stricken look on his face she grimaced in apology.
"Khial, it’s called morning sickness. Merlyn says it lasts a few weeks at most. And that it’s a good sign."
Khial nodded stiffly. He knew all these things, but he couldn't help the little voice inside his mind, the voice that called to him in nightmares and memories. The voice that wanted to poke and pop anything Khial became attached to.
He retracted his arm from behind Chanyn and folded his hand in his lap. They sat there quietly for a long moment, looking out over the lush garden. Darlyn, Dain's mother, had been full of so much love and she gave it freely, to people and plants alike. It didn't surprise Khial that the garden continued to be lush long after her passing. He wished he had an ounce of that feeling to share with this child and its mother.
"I was serious last night Khial. I don't expect anything... husbandly from you."
Khial's lips upticked at the word husbandly.
"Don't make fun." She bumped his shoulder with hers. "You're as clueless as I am about all this."
He looked over at her; the bark of laughter got stuck in his throat. With the sun backlighting her brown face and liquid eyes, Chanyn took his breath. She brought the plump lower lip into her mouth, pulling it with one tooth. Khial‘s mouth watered. He saw Chanyn's eyes flare.
"Khi?" She placed a hand in the crook of his elbow.
Khial's dick jerked to attention. The sudden rise after days of dormancy proved more painful than pleasurable.
He stood. "I'm going out."
Her face looked horror stricken.
Khial held up his hands as though he could stop her assumption. "Just for a while. I won't do that again, Chanyn. I promised."
The look of horror was slow to melt away. "You'll be back by dinner?"
He nodded.
She stood and held out her hand with her smallest finger extended. "Pinky swear."
"What?"
"It’s something I read in a book. If you break a pinky swear, your little finger will fall off."
Khial extended his finger and linked it with hers. They shook on it, both grinning like schoolgirls. With their fingers still entwined, Khial leaned down and kissed Chanyn on the cheek. His lips tingled on contact. When he pulled back he paused for the slightest second, an inch from her mouth, before putting a breath of distance between them.
"Now you know I've told the truth," he said. "If I lose my pinky finger I won't be able to play the violin any longer."
She released his finger. Khial turned and left.
It took him twenty minutes of driving to realize where he was headed.
In Khial's worst nightmares, people looked at him with accusing eyes, even though he'd walked away from his mother all those years ago. Now, in reality, people looked at him as he walked toward her.
"She's had no visitors," the guard said in answer to Khial's question.
"None?" He'd always assumed his mother's followers, deranged men who paid homage to her work or her lineage, had been visiting her for years. They had to have done so in order to carry out the assassination of Dain's parents. An assassination Khial believed was called out due to his defection from her household.
The guard shook his head. "Not once in the ten years she's been here."
The guard had to wave Khial ahead twice. He stood, stuck in place. Khial walked slowly into the interior of the prison. He heard her before he saw her. He stopped to listen.
She breezed through the song, a song he still fumbled. The place where he always tripped up, she sailed through effortlessly. When that song ended, she immediately began another, more difficult than the first.
Khial crept to her door slowly, as though sneaking up on an opponent in a gunfight from a Western film of the twentieth. It took him five breaths before he gathered the courage to peer inside the cell door.
The woman in the room playing the violin looked nothing like the memories he lugged around of his mother. She was wrinkled and gray. Her brown skin looked sallow and unhealthy. Her hair a riot of curls upon her head. She looked... helpless.
"We do the best we can," the guard said. "But she doesn't speak and she often gets violent. You can try and talk to her if you like."
Khial shook his head. He couldn't form a sentence even if he wanted to speak with her. There was too much chatter in his head. If she’d had no visitors, then who could have caused the accident of Dain's parents? If there was no one to listen to her, who hid the cure to Dain's illness? If there was no one to follow her, whom did Khial have to guard Chanyn and the baby against?
His mother stopped playing abruptly. Slowly, as though she could sense him, she began to turn towards the door. Khial caught a glimpse of her eyes, the same crystal blue as his own, the same vacant void as the day he was born.
Khial yanked away before she could glimpse him. He walked quickly back down the hall and out the door. Never looking back, once.
Chapter Five
Chanyn dug her hands into the cool earth. She didn't recognize the weed she displaced. Somehow, the scrawny plant found its way amidst the lush flowers that blocked its kin from the sun. The robust flowers dwarfed and shadowed the wayward weed, but it only stretched its brown leaves higher towards the sun.
Chanyn reached for a clay pot. She filled the pot with fresh soil. Reaching for the weed, she pushed its roots into its new home and set the plant in the direct sunlight.
"What are you doing?" Khial's form blocked out the sun. A scowl darkened his features further.
Chanyn swooped the potted plant into her arms. "Was it important? Should I not have pulled this one?"
Khial barely glanced at the plant as he helped her to her feet. "Chanyn we have servants to do this. You don't have to work. You don't have to do anything."
"I like gardening. It's peaceful, especially in an area where I won't run into wild animals trying to steal my dinner or my life."
Khial sighed, releasing his scowl. "I don't want you to over exert yourself." He gave her still flat belly a fleeting look. "Please?"
The please unfolded Chanyn's arms. She kept forgetting that she had dominion over all and everyone in this house. Khial had no power or right to make her do anything. Everything he asked of her would be a request, a request she had the right to deny.
She handed the plant to Khial who set it back in the sun. Then she let him guide her into the house. Once inside, he brought her to the sink and washed her hands. She'd seen him tune his instrument one morning. He adjusted each string, one by one, with such care and focus.
One by one, Khial washed the soil from each of Chanyn's fingers.
Chanyn gazed at the concentration set in his strong jaw. His eyes were screwed in scrutiny. His tongue sneaked out of his mouth as his focus increased. Chanyn forgot to blink as she watched his every move, wondering if this is what he looked like as a boy. Would their son make that same face?
She blinked.
They wouldn't be having children. Not of their own flesh, made together. Khial didn't look at her like that, and she should be glad he didn't. She loved another man. A man she couldn't have. A man who, after coming to her aid, left without a word. Jian's priorities were crystal clear.
"What is it?" Khial stopped the water and dried her hands. "Did I hurt you?" His face screwed as he looked for d
amage.
"No, Khial. I was just..."
Khial tossed the towel into the sink. "You were thinking about him?"
"Dain?"
"No, the monk. Jian."
Khial put his hand on her lower back and walked her down the hallway. Chanyn forgot to speak as she concentrated on that hand at her lower back. The warmth of it. The weight of it.
"I wish things could have been different for both of us, Chanyn. But I'm learning we can't change the past. Sometimes we can't even see the past clearly for what it was."
They entered Dain's office. Chanyn sat once more on the dainty couch where Dain had proposed.
"My fathers would've done anything for my mother. They did... they did horrible things to prove their affection. Growing up, that was my definition of love. I've been so afraid of being like my parents all my life. My choices were emotion-less, like my mother, or obsessive, like my fathers. I'm still learning that I get to choose who I want to be. Dain..."
Khial stumbled, his eyes fixed on a portrait of a young Dain on the wall. In the picture, Dain looked healthy and happy, his golden locks shining around his handsome face.
"Dain would have never asked me to harm anyone. It wasn't in his nature. He only ever asked me to show others mercy or kindness. The last thing he asked me to do was take care of you and the baby. When you got sick earlier, it scared me. Everything I ever came to care about has been taken from me."
Chanyn ran her hand down his cheek. Khial shuddered, closing his eyes for a moment, as though willing himself to be still and receive the affection. Chanyn nearly pulled her hand away, but decided to keep it there.
When Khial opened his eyes, they burned into hers. "I wanted you that first day we met you. Other than Dain, I hadn't wanted something for myself in so long, and I thought you were going to try and take him from me."
Chanyn smoothed her thumb over his cheek; the coarse stubble gave her little resistance. "I just wanted to be included."
Khial covered her hand with his. "I know that now." He scooted closer and placed a hand on her cheek. "Chanyn, I... I come with a lot of baggage."
"So do I."
"I'm not a perfect man. I'm not the storybook hero like Dain."
"Yeah, I kind of figured that out," she deadpanned.
Khial froze, uncertainty on his face. Chanyn quirked an eyebrow, hoping he'd find the humor in there. It took a second, but finally a chuckle bubbled out of his chest.
He was so boyish when he laughed, when he was unguarded and forgot to shield himself from the world. Unfortunately, his shields didn't stay down for long.
Khial sobered and rebuilt his mask. But the material had grown weaker. "I'm not thoughtful like Dain. I'm not patient like Jian. I don't know that I can love you the way either of them did. But I do care about you, Chanyn. I want to provide for you, protect you, and please you."
"Okay," Chanyn said. She wanted those things, too. Not only for herself; she wanted to provide, protect, and please Khial in return. They both deserved happiness after the rough beginnings of their lives.
Khial's eyes scanned her face. Whatever he read there made him nod. "Okay," he said.
Then he leaned in, carefully, concentrating. When their lips met, it wasn't the bliss that came on Jian's breath. It wasn't the compassion that came with Dain's. Khial's kiss was his own: eager, fearful, and determined.
Chanyn relaxed into him, letting him explore her. His hands held her gently. His lips sipped at her as though she were the thing to quench the thirst within him. Khial turned her head here and there to gain maximum access. Before long Chanyn clung to him neglecting her lung's need for air.
Khial pressed her down into the couch. She felt his erection throbbing between two layers of clothing. In response, her own core heated. Chanyn became torn between pressing her legs together to relieve her ache and spreading them wide to welcome Khial.
Khial pulled away from her, breathing heavily. With shaky hands, he reached beneath her dress. Reaching her underwear, his eyes asked for permission. Chanyn gave a dazed nod and felt a tug. His knuckles brushed against her moist core and his eyes widened in surprise.
His hand shook as he relieved her of the under garment. His movements frantic, he shoved his pants down and knelt between her legs. Chanyn felt him fisting himself. He trembled as he aligned the head of his penis with her core.
He shoved into her.
Chanyn gasped. Not in pleasure. Not quite. Khial's penis was long and thick, leaving her feeling full. However, there was too much friction to enjoy the fullness.
Khial failed to notice. His face screwed in rapture as he withdrew and plunged again. And again. His pace became faster, his thrusts frantic. It became increasingly uncomfortable. Before Chanyn could decide how to voice her discomfort, it was over.
Khial shuddered inside her and slumped down into the crook of her neck. His penis softened, taking with it her discomfort. He lay atop Chanyn, his tremors subsiding, his breath unsteady, his face unguarded. A sudden protectiveness washed over Chanyn, and she stroked his neck for long moments after, as he lay there.
Finally, he straightened on his arms, a small sheepish smile on his face. Chanyn tried to return the look. Evidently, she failed.
"You... didn't?" he asked.
She searched for phrasing that wouldn't hurt his feelings.
"Did I hurt you?" Khial pulled away, his face knitting up the unguarded expression.
Chanyn fought the instinct to cover herself. Khial did it for her. He slid her dress down over her exposed thighs. Then he stood, fastening his clothing, his shield closing into place.
"Khi—" Chanyn tried to sit up, but the venture was difficult and she winced.
Khial caught sight of her expression. In one second flat his shield fell. The carefully knit expression unraveled into horror and shame.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I won't come near you again."
"Khial!"
But he was already out the door.
Chapter Six
Khial heard Chanyn call after him, but he couldn't turn back. He couldn't face her. His pride would not allow it, though his desire for her burned bright.
It was like touching a star.
Dain's words ran on a loop through Khial's head. Being inside Chanyn's wet, hot pussy had set him on fire. Khial burned to return to her and sink once more in the inferno between her thighs. He'd sated himself only moments ago, but he'd begun to grow hard again the moment he'd pulled away from her. That is, until he saw the pinched look on her face.
He raced down the hallway, putting distance between them. Ignoring Rianald's call, he burst through the front entrance and out into the cool night air.
For just a moment, I touched the Goddess.
When Dain had said that to him, Khial wondered if it was the illness talking. Now he knew from firsthand experience that the man spoke the gospel truth. Khial had no complaints about his sex life with Dain. He'd felt fulfilled with every encounter, wanting more after each time. But being with Chanyn was something entirely different.
The moist heat of her. The soft constriction. The moist heat.
Khial's balls, emptied just moments before, felt unbearably heavy. He came to the end of the property and sat down on the curb at the main street. In the distance he could see cars carting people home after work or headed out to enjoy the city nightlife. It became a blur to Khial.
His heart ached from the loss of Dain.
His jaw throbbed from the kick delivered by that ruffian the night before in the shelter.
His head felt dizzy from the visit to his mother's cell.
And now his balls and dick wanted in on the pity party.
Khial's mind and body swirled with too much sensation. He couldn't hold on to any thought for too long. Only one thing was certain. He wanted to be back inside Chanyn.
In those few moments, he'd known peace. That same sense of peace he had after making love to Dain. In that space, when he'd pounded every ounce of pleasure from his lover
and then lay in the cradle of his arms. Khial had stolen inside Chanyn, emptied his very soul into her, and known a deep sense of rightness. Only, when he opened his eyes, he found that she had experienced only discomfort and pain.
He didn't need his mother to ruin anything. He'd done a damned fine job of it himself.
When Khial was a child, peaceful moments scared him. He knew they were the calm before the storm. The only safe place in the storm of his parents lay in the eye, where he could see the fighting around him. Seeing the winds of destruction let him know which places were safe to hide. When the storm was out of sight, he felt entirely unsafe.
For the last ten years, his mother had been out of sight. Khial existed in a state of anxiety, waiting for the storm to approach. Watching for it on all fronts. Putting up shields to protect the man he loved. But that storm never came. His mother's destructive forces had been dismantled, caged, forgotten. The storm that did come hid inside Dain. Dain's illness, quiet and out of Khial's sight, blindsided him.
The first time Khial laid eyes on Dain, the boy flashed him that brilliant smile and Khial felt the ground fall out from under him. He heard the wind in his ears. He felt robbed of breath. Dain had knocked him flatter than any of the storms his parents stirred into existence. But Khial had never turned away from Dain. Never stepped out of Dain's eyesight. For years, Khial chased after the storm, until Dain's winds ceased and left Khial torn apart in the wake of its destruction.
The first time Khial saw Chanyn he felt that same prickle of wind at the nape of his neck. Everything in him told him to run. That this would be the storm to end all storms. He needed to run away from her. Run far and fast.
Khial stood and turned back to the house.
"Lord Khial?"
Khial turned at the sound of that deep, lyrical voice. The monk had the type of voice meant for singing. Once more Khial wondered what he would sound like accompanying his violin.