Sanctuary Tales, Volume One by Robert J. Crane

Author:Robert J. Crane [Crane, Robert J.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Reikonos Press
Published: 2014-07-07T23:00:00+00:00

Ten

“I had not thought I would see you tonight,” Nethan said after they’d finished, still sighing into the darkness. “Not that I’m complaining.” He shifted in the bed, disturbing her with his motion. “Though it was a bit of a long day in the fields.”

“Oh?” she asked, trying to find a way to circle around to what she wanted to ask him that wouldn’t seem callous or too forward. Would you marry me?

“I’m afraid so,” Nethan intoned, not catching her intention. “We had to let go a few field hands today due to poor performance. They’re a bit farther up there in the years, close to the turn, and they slow down considerably after a certain point.”

“Could I ever be your wife?” Martaina asked, the words spilling out like the blood from the bear’s neck after the arrow pierced it.

“I … what?” Nethan’s face visibly paled, even in the darkness.

“Would you,” Martaina said, not daring to look at him, instead keeping her eyes fixed on the ceiling above, with its odd white sculpting, “ever make an Iliarad’ouran your wife?”

“Uhm,” Nethan said, almost stuttering, “you are … certainly a balm to me. Great comfort—”

“So I’m fit to be a comfort woman,” Martaina said, not letting any emotion spill out, “but not a wife.”

Nethan seemed taken aback. “I … I … never thought we’d even need to discuss this, but … I mean … I’m a planter. I would have to marry a woman of my station or higher else I’d lose my place in society—”

“I see,” Martaina said, and the heat in her body was intense, more than any time she could recall. The torrent of emotions was almost more than she could bear, lying there with the sheets tangled about her, the curious sense of shame and desire pooling in her. She repressed the urge to twitch with anxiety, to vibrate her leg with nervous energy.

“I am sorry,” Nethan said, and she could see he had turned to her now, in her peripheral vision. “I didn’t know that you’d ever even considered it a possibility—”

“It’s fine,” she said and rolled toward him. She looked him over once, his fine, bronzed skin still as appealing to her as it had been before, his handsome face sown with regret, an expression of deepest sorrow turning his lips down in a pained look. “It’s all right,” she said again and kissed him with a fiery passion that was hotter than any of the times she’d kissed him before. He resisted at first, his eyes still open when she looked, but a few moments of caresses and he gave in.

She steered the course the whole time, never once letting him have a moment of control. She taxed him long, listened to him moan for a release that she never gave him. Once she was done she simply stopped and stared down at him. There was a moment’s hesitation in his eyes, as though he expected her to go on. She looked at him, thinking about him as she would a animal she stalked, and rolled off, not even breathing heavily.

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