Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Eventually though, he sighs. “I should return to my duties.”
“If you need me, you know where I am.” I smile at him as he gets to his feet. I get up, too, shaking out my skirts. “I’m going to go and get something to eat, but if you want me to come back later, just say the word. I’m happy to sit in the corner and sew if you want company.”
“I shall think upon it.” He takes my hand and lifts it to his mouth, pressing his lips to my knuckles. “My thanks, Yulenna.”
My name. It shouldn’t be so startling to hear coming from a god’s lips, but I like hearing it. “You’re welcome, Zaroun.”
“Now please leave so I do not watch you die,” he says, tugging at the blindfold that covers his eyes.
I quickly exit his chamber and head down the long, winding slope that encircles the tower. At the very bottom is the kitchens, and food, and my stomach growls as if in reminder.
Before I get very far, however, another figure appears. It’s the gray-eyed Aspect—Neska. His expression is cool and hard, and I startle, moving aside. The smell of dust that accompanies him fills my nostrils. “My lord,” I breathe, dropping into a curtsy. “Can I help you?”
“I don’t know yet.” He continues to regard me with that hard, vaguely displeased look, and I’m reminded of the fact that he waited outside of my room all night. He’s probably spied on my time with Zaroun and decided that he didn’t like it.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to juggle pleasing all three of them if spending time with one annoys another. Biting back my frustration, I wait for him to say something. When he doesn’t, I gesture at the hall. “I’m heading to the kitchens but that can wait—”
“No. Continue.”
Oh. Very well. I pick up my skirts and head down the hall again, deeply aware of his stare boring into the back of my neck. He follows after me, a few paces behind, but says nothing. I can’t help but feel that I’ve done something to offend him, but I don’t ask what.
As soon as we get into the kitchens, though, he speaks. “I’ve decided you should service me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Service him. Of course that’s what he wants. That’s all he ever wants. I remind myself that despite the pleasant time I spent with Zaroun, I must be mindful that all three of them are gods and all-powerful. That being with them here is an honor. Have I not served worse?
Dutifully, I haul my skirts up and lean over the nearest table. I push my bare ass out and spread my legs, waiting.
Nothing happens. He doesn’t touch me.
A long, uncomfortable moment passes, and then I turn to look over at him. He’s still staring at me with that hard look of distaste on his face. His robes remain closed, and I can’t see if he’s hard or not.
“Is this not what you want?” I ask. He’s taken me like this many times before, so I know he doesn’t mind the position.
“I am not hard for this.”
His words are ice cold, as if I’ve done something wrong. Alarmed, I turn and drop to my knees in front of him on the floor. “I can service you with my mouth, or my hands, until you’re hard—”
With an irritable flick, he pushes me away. “I want what Zaroun has.”
Now I’m getting frustrated. “I have serviced Zaroun with my mouth—”
“That’s not what I meant.” He sounds petulant. “You smiled when you touched him. You made sounds of pleasure. I could hear them.”
“Do…you want me to make sounds for you?”
“I want your pleasure!” He snarls at me. When I flinch backward, he sighs, the sound one of pure irritation. “And now you’re crawling like you’re terrified.”
“You asked for submission. I’m giving you submission,” I whisper. “I can’t give you emotion unless it’s earned…unless you want me to fake it.”
Neska’s lip curls. “The thought of you faking it is more offensive than the thought of mounting you right now. Why is this so unpleasant for me and so pleasant for Zaroun? What is the difference between us?”
He sounds genuinely bewildered, some of the anger leaving his tone. I pause, and then get to my feet, feeling as if I’m about to poke the beast. “The difference is emotion.”
“You have said that before. I want your emotion if it makes such a difference.” Neska’s cold eyes burn into mine. “Give me your pleasure.”
For a moment, I consider faking it and seeing if he notices the difference. His displeasure is a little terrifying to see, and the submissive slave I once was is far too used to doing anything to appease an angry master. “You can’t turn it off and on like a faucet. Emotion has to be won. It has to be pulled forth.”