The Beginning of Everything Read online Kristen Ashley (The Rising #1)

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Rising Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
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He’d not disappeared behind the sheers that covered the archway, I could see his shadow moving in the dimly-lit space.

And thus, I watched as he tossed his jacket to the daybed.

“Because they don’t think much of me.”

“Your mama shared they did not all support you.”

“Not all,” he agreed, as I watched his hands move to the buttons of his shirt. “Only three.”

This surprised me.

“Three?”

“Three. My direct clan. The royal clan my father’s side was born of. Also, my maternal clan. The one my mother is descended from. And last, Sofia’s clan.”

I had noticed that last for certain.

That night, Sofia and Farah finally were shown some support. At least from one quarter. A clan headed by a man my father’s age who, along with his wife, and what Mars had shared were his son and daughter, looked on Farah kindly as she sat at the head table. They sat with Sofia, drawing her into discussion warmly.

I had been wrong earlier, I’d felt approval one other time.

Coming from Sofia’s table, her clan, after they noticed that I engaged in a friendly way with Farah.

“I was glad to see Sofia amongst her own,” I told him.

“Indeed,” he replied, shrugging off his shirt and tossing it aside. “Particularly since they’re a powerful clan. Outside my direct line, the most powerful in the realm.”

His hands then went to his trousers.

Oh my faith.

I turned away.

“Why was the…um, announcement you’d be giving the offerings to your country such a surprise?” I asked.

“Such has never been done.”

This I didn’t find surprising, for if Wilmer was younger and just wedding Mercy, I knew he would not hesitate to put such in his own chest.

“They must surely be glad for the advancements,” I noted, staring at his bed, which probably was not a good place to set my eyes.

Therefore, I moved them to the short, mirrored dresser by his bed.

Better.

“The nomads don’t care. They roam. Educate their own. Worship on their rugs under the sun. Practice their own healing techniques. Fight their own fights. When there is war for Firenze, it is rare they send their men.”

“Ah,” I mumbled loudly when he didn’t continue speaking.

“The clans, they vacillate depending on where I decide to focus currency. If it’s the betterment of their schools and hospitals, building temples and monuments in their towns and cities, which means their people are laboring and receiving the crowns’ coin, they are happy. They do not understand the creation of straight, easily traversed roads or irrigation of rivers, which is something my father started, and I continue. But if it is their people remunerated for it, they do not complain. But if it is that of others…”

He did not finish, but I understood.

“They keep a close eye and protest favoritism frequently,” Mars concluded.

“Do you play favorites?” I asked, only for something to say because I couldn’t imagine he did.

His voice was getting closer when he replied as I expected, “No.”

I turned to his voice.

He was in his silky panel pants, this pair a deep burgundy.

Chest bare.

Piercings shining in the much more lit (but still less lit than the time I’d been there before) room.

All right, maybe I wasn’t ready to learn more of what marriage would mean between Mars and me.

It would seem I didn’t have a choice.

For he came direct to me, took my hand, and walking slowly, he led me to the bed.

I gulped down saliva from a suddenly full mouth.

At the top of the steps, he turned, sat on the edge of his bed, opened his long legs and guided me to standing in between.

He then took up my other hand, and holding both, tipped his head back to look up at me.

“You are nervous,” he whispered.

I stared into dark eyes that were soft with tenderness and empathy.

And I felt the tension ease from my shoulders.

“A little,” I whispered in return.

“We will kiss more, my bride. And that is all if that is all you’re ready for.” He pulled me the tiniest bit closer. “And know this, Silence, for I refer to tonight and tomorrow and for as long as you need to get used to this intimacy we will share. I am ready. I desire you. I want to know your taste. Your mysteries. But if you are not, that means we are not. Is this something you understand?”

It was.

It was something I understood.

And something I found incredibly generous.

And beautiful.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Then kiss me, Silence, and guide our way tonight.”

Could I kiss him?

He let my hands go and sat there, his eyes steady on me, our time together brief, just a snatch in what I hoped would be a lifetime of knowing each other.

But he had shown me nothing but interest, respect, kindness, protectiveness, gentleness and desire.

Thus, I bent forward, resting my hands on his broad shoulders, feeling the heat of his body, the power of his muscles, and dropped my lips to his.


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