“You will learn, after a while, to excuse a great deal, to ignore even more. And to look for joy where you can find it. Maybe in children...”
Senna threw her hands over her ears. “I cannot even...there is no way in heaven or hell that I will let that man touch me.” She turned suddenly, resting her arm on the back of the chair. “Tell me again, how you met Bakri.”
Anacelia let the hand that was holding the brush, fall to her side. “You know the story...” But she smiled; she always smiled. Senna had been asking for this story for years. “I was buying fish. This was before you were born, of course. I worked in the kitchens. And your mother...” Anacelia put her hand on Senna’s shoulder. “When she was carrying you, your mother loved fresh fish, baked in salt with lemons and garlic. I’d gone to get the fish and there was a different man at the fish seller’s cart. I heard him, singing his song, extolling the freshness of the catch, the size of the fish.”
Senna watched Anacelia’s eyes, the way her face came alive with the memory. Her heart ached; she wanted to be able to tell the story of how she met her love to someone when she was old, to have them see the same love on her face. But her love was Gabriel, and their love was secret.
“I bought fish from him. And, as they say, the rest is written in the book of life.”
“You fell in love at first sight?”
“He did. I guess I did as well.” She laughed. “It wasn’t because of the size of his fish though.”
“Was it the size of something else?”
“Senna. For shame.” But Anacelia was laughing, hiding her face briefly, behind her hand. “I didn’t know...that...then. But he asked me to marry him the next time I went to buy fish. He took my hand, kissed my fingers, told me how beautiful my tattoos were. And it was soon after that...” Anacelia hid her face in her hands again. “You’re making an old woman blush. But yes...it was a very happy wedding night.”
“I want that. I want to blush when I’m older, and when I tell the story of my wedding night.” She turned around, sat back, arms folded across her breasts, and tried to fight back a pout. But she lost and her lower lip curled. “How can I do that when my first meeting with the Ottway was so horrible?” For an instant she thought of telling Anacelia about Gabriel. Anacelia would keep their secret. Her pout disappeared.
Anacelia rested her hands on Senna’s shoulders. “My child, I cannot tell you the answer to that. You are from different world than I am. You have a greater responsibility...”
“I don’t want this responsibility! I don’t want to be the pawn that’s shuttled back and forth, the chess piece that’s supposed to make peace between this realm and the Ottway’s. I don’t want that to be my legacy.”
Anacelia leaned down, rested her cheek against Senna’s. In the mirror she could see the sadness in Anacelia’s eyes. She also saw, as if for the first time, the lines around her eyes, the gray that streaked her hair. It struck her that there were precious few days left to spend with the woman.
“I am sorry, Senna. I am. But we are cast in our lots, in this life. And there is nothing we can do about it, but keep our chin up, and make the best of what we have.”
From the other room, the whistle on the steam heater sputtered to life, rising in pitch until it was singing loudly. Anacelia kissed the top of Senna’s head, then quickly bound Senna’s hair in a knot.
“I’ll draw your bath, and you can soak. Maybe it will take your mind off the Ottway. You don’t see him again for many weeks?” Anacelia disappeared into the bathroom, her question lost in the whistling. The sound cut off abruptly, replaced by the sound of running water.
“Days, in truth. He has moved the wedding up…I am to go back a week from now. The wedding is two days later.”
Anacelia appeared in the doorway, her brow creased. “Oh, Senna. That’s too soon. Even for an arrangement like this.”
Senna walked into the bathroom. “Too soon...the end of my life would be too soon.”
The carved marble bath was full, steam rising gently. Anacelia reached into a carved jar, and sprinkled a handful of herbs across the surface of the water. The scent of lavender and chamomile filled the room, with something else that Senna didn’t know the name of. Anacelia brought it from her home garden, mixing it with the rest of the herbs.
“Take your bath. We’ll think no more about the Ottway or marriage tonight. I’ll come back when you’re finished and see you to sleep.”
“No, go back to your quarters, to your husband. I’ll take care of myself. I want to be alone with my thoughts, and then go to sleep.”
“As you wish. I’ll turn down your bed.” She kissed Senna on the cheek, standing on tiptoes to do so. “And I’ll take the silks to be mended. It’s no fault of theirs they are inferior.”
“Only the man who chose them.”
“And I’ll send up your dinner.”
She made a face but Anacelia waved her hand in that way she’d been doing since Senna was little, brushing aside whatever face Senna made or the objections she came up with for not doing what she was supposed to do.
“Just cold foods. You can pick at it, after your bath. And some wine. It will help you sleep.”
Anacelia smiled, and bowed, closing the door behind her. Senna slipped out of the white silk, draping the garment over a chair. Beside that was another silk gown, this one deep midnight blue, left for her by Anacelia. She smiled and fingered the fabric. She wanted to plead to her father, to take Anacelia with her to the Ottway’s palace. But then she knew she couldn’t. Anacelia would never leave her family, and Senna would never ask her to, even if the Ottway would let her bring her own servants.
It was better to just soak in the bath. She’d think about this tomorrow. Or the next day. Or never.
Chapter Three
The water was hot, and she sank down by degrees, until she was submerged. The scent of lavender was heady. She breathed deeply, taking it in. She never knew if it worked by taking deep breaths, or if the magic worked on her skin, seeping in through her pores, easing her body and her mind. After a while, she didn’t care. It was magic, pure and simple.
She tried not to think about the Ottway, but memories popped up. It was easier here, in the bath, to let those thoughts slide away. She didn’t love him; he didn’t love her. This was an arranged marriage. A political move, set to benefit only her father’s realm and the Ottway’s dominion. And, she thought, the Ottway probably viewed it to his advantage. He’d have her, a young woman in his bed. It made her skin crawl, and she pushed that thought away. She had better things to think about.
Gabriel...he’d come to meet her carriage, to welcome her home. He’d let her know, in the only way he could, that he’d missed her. She hoped he could see in her eyes, the brief touch of her hand, how much she’d missed him. How much she desperately loved him.
She did have her own story, of how she met her love. But there was no one to tell it to, except herself. Over and over. And their first—and only—night together. That she could only replay in her mind.
Now she did, remembering how he’d come to her, slipping along her balcony while she’d slept. Coming into her room. He’d stood for a moment, moonlight from the window making him a dark silhouette. She’d watched, heart beating so fast she was dizzy, as he’d shed his clothes. She’d pulled back the sheets, and he’d climbed in with her.
The things he’d done...she had no words for what they were. All she knew was that, when he left, she was satisfied in a way she’d never been before. And she’d been a very happy woman. He’d marked her as his, heart and soul. And then he’d left, just as silently as he’d arrived. Actually, not completely silently. As he’d left, he had whispered that he loved her, and she believed him.
The water was growing cold, the room almost dark, faint candlelight from the bedroom barely reaching the dark corners of the bath. Reluctantly she got out, wrapping herself in the robe, the silk clinging to her damp skin. She padded barefoot through her room, smiling as she saw the t
ray on the bedside table. Anacelia had left her a generous plate of figs and cheese, grapes and oranges. And a bottle of wine. In a minute…but first she wanted to take in the night air, the view from her balcony. She walked through the arches, past the curtains billowing softly in the breeze, pulling the few pins that held her hair up. It fell in soft waves down her back, over her shoulders.
The breeze molded the silk to her curves. For a moment, she imagined it was Gabriel’s hands molding to her body, the outline of her full breasts, dipping into her waist, then out, tracing the roundness of her hips.
The sun had set, the dark sky streaked with tinges of violet and indigo. The air was scented with orange and lemon, from the trees in the courtyard below, tended lovingly by her father, releasing their scents on the night air. She wondered if the Ottway—she couldn’t make herself call him by his given name, Venn, only by his title—had citrus. She didn’t believe so. Unless he’d had them hidden in some secret garden. But she’d seen most of his palace, and there were no citrus trees in sight, no scent of them on the night air.
The breeze blew against her skin, made her shiver. The scents were so sweet, so intoxicating; she closed her eyes and inhaled.
There was a gentle tug on her hair, the tension pulling her slowly back from the balcony railing. With eyes closed she let herself be pulled away, into the shadows. Hands touched her arms, turning her, moving her—and him, because it was him—further beneath the archway and back into her room.
“I’ve missed you, Senna. Life is not the same when you are away.”
His voice was low, like the sound of wind over the dunes. There was something different in his words, an accent maybe, that she’d not heard when he’d met her carriage earlier.
She opened her eyes, tilting her head up to look into his face. He was tall, taller than her father or anyone at the palace. She loved how delicate she felt in his arms. How protected. How cherished, and loved.
“I missed you too, Gabriel.” The words hardly seemed adequate to describe all that she felt for this gorgeous man.
He pulled her closer, just close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body through the damp silk. His hands moved over her arms, lightly, too lightly. She wanted to be crushed against his chest, his arms holding her, his hands touching her everywhere. But he was gentle, his movements slow.
“You’ll stay? Not like last time?”
“You gave word not to be disturbed.” His voice carried a hint of humor. “But I hoped that didn’t include me.”
She started to speak, but he bent his head, stopping her words with his lips. Softly at first, and as she responded, the kiss deepened. His tongue flicked against her lips and she shivered. He was the first man she’d ever kissed, and that had only been once before. This was new, still, but she’d had a taste of what it could be like. To know they had until dawn…it was beyond her wildest dreams.
Parting her lips, she met his tongue with hers, fissions of excitement coursing through her. Something so simple, the touch of his lips, his tongue, how could things used for speech create such havoc inside her. Impulsively, she threw her arms around him, standing on tiptoes to pull him closer. She felt his lips curve into a smile, but he said nothing.
His arms gradually tightened around her, pulling her against his chest. He was wearing a tunic and pants, but beneath she could tell he wasn’t wearing his armor, the armor all shifters wore while in service. It thrilled her to know there were just a few thin layers of cloth between them.
Gradually, his hand moved over her back, resting briefly at her waist. She breathed a sigh against his mouth as he pulled her hips against him, against the space between his hips. It was impossible not to wiggle against him, to feel the hardness beneath his pants grow and move, like something alive. Something he had that was beyond his control, but completely under hers. It was a heady sensation; one she’d tasted before—once—one she wanted to experience again.
Feeling brave, she let one hand move between them, fingers playing over his tunic, down the front of his pants. Her fingers brushed against him, just a feather-light touch. Something dark uncoiled inside her, and she pushed her hand firmly against him.
For a moment, he let her touch him, then he broke the kiss, looking down at her, fingers reaching up to wind through her hair.
“Do you know what you’re doing, Senna?”
“Yes…” She felt her face grow warm “No. You know that.”
“I do.” He kissed her again, palm cupping her cheek. “I know exactly what you know…and what you don’t.”
She looked up into his eyes. “Can you show me? We…the other time…the first time was…”
“The first time was what?”
“Was too brief. Over too soon.”
“It was…” He kissed her, then rested his forehead against hers. “I wanted to stay with you.”
“You can…tonight.”
“I can.” She heard the smile in his voice, the desire that matched hers.
“Then show me what to do.”
She reached out and took his hand, pulling him toward her bed. It was turned down, the white sheets cool-looking and inviting. It thrilled her beyond belief that they had the whole night to spend there, to be alone. For him to do things…her to do things…
“You’re very assertive tonight.” He let her pull him toward the bed. “I like this new you.”
She spun around, her silk robe falling open, brazen and uninhibited. “I want to know this…you…before I can’t any longer. Before it’s too late.”
A breeze blew through her room, setting the candles flickering, playing with the opening of her robe. There was no need to go further with that thought. They both knew what the stakes were, but she didn’t need to hear him say the words out loud. It would shatter the spell, the magic.
“I’m here, with you, for you…now, Senna. You know that.”
She reached out, fingers brushing against his arm. “I know. And I love you for it.”
He took a step toward her, the light catching his eyes. They were dark, darker than she could remember them ever being. When he touched her arm, she shivered. The robe slipped from her shoulder and she let it fall, wanting to let it fall to the floor. But she caught it with a startled breath, holding it against her breasts.
“Let me…”
Gabriel reached out, tugging the robe out of her fingers. It was easier to let him take the lead, to gently pull the robe away from her. It slipped further down, exposing one breast.
“As round and full as the moon.” He touched her, softly, slowly, tracing the curve of her breast, fingers coming to rest on her nipple. With exquisite tenderness he pinched her, rolling the hard little nub between his fingers.
“Oh…” The sensation was somewhere beyond pleasure, just short of pain. “Oh…my.” Her breath went fast and shallow, and she ran her tongue over her lower lip.
“Like a rosebud against cream.”
“Like a thorn grazing the skin.”
“Does it hurt?” His voice was lazy, and it didn’t seem to matter to him if her answer was yes or no. Something unfurled inside her, something dark and strange, but wonderful all the same. She’d never felt anything like this. But she wanted to feel it again.
“Yes.” She breathed out the word. “Harder.”
He smiled, something almost cruel in the lift of his lips. Cruel, but seductive. He increased the pressure of his fingers, pinching harder. She gasped, arching her back, a trembling thrill running through her. Almost immediately, she felt a clenching deep inside; movement beyond her control making her hips jerk forward, her stomach contract. It was like someone had dropped a rock in a deep pool; ripples spreading, the rock hitting bottom with a solid weight. She blinked in surprise.
“You like that, yes?”
“Yes. Very much.” Her words came out as a breathless whisper.
“The pain? Or the orgasm?”
She blinked again. “What?”
“You are so obvious in your
desires, and in your responses. That…” He flattened his hand, palming her breast, fingers splayed over her skin. The hardened nipple pressed against his hand, the sensation different, softer, but still utterly amazing.
“That was an orgasm, Senna…you’ve had them before with me.”
“Oh…” Her face grew warm. “I…you did that to me before, yes, I know.”
“Before, yes.” He smiled. “Let’s see what else makes you come.”
He squeezed her breast. With amazement, she watched as he leaned forward, his dark head coming closer, bending to her. His tongue flicked over her other nipple, and the ripples that had subsided grew, strengthened.
For a moment, he held her like this, one hand caressing her, his tongue sliding over her other puckered nipple. It was impossible not to touch him, not to run her fingers through his hair. It was loose around his shoulders and she was mesmerized by the silky feel, the length, the curls.
She pulled him closer, wanting more. Whatever more meant. He complied, forming his lips around her diamond-hard nipple, pulling her into his mouth. Sucking, gently, so very gently. A jolt like a lightning bolt raced through her, bringing alive places inside her she never knew existed. As if sensing it, his hand tightened onto her other breast.
But the gentleness was momentary. Gabriel sucked harder, pulling her sensitive nipple into his mouth, then more of her breast. The lightning strike turned into a raging storm, jolts shooting through her as he sucked, harder and faster, almost greedily, his other hand tensing over, and over, on her breast.
She was helpless in his grasp, her hips moving, slowly forward, over and over. She wanted something, her body wanted something. But she didn’t know how to ask for it, didn’t have the words to know what it was.
Wild Things (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance): Shifter Lovers Romance Page 3