Naamah's Curse (Moirin's Trilogy Book 2) by Jacqueline Carey

Author:Jacqueline Carey [Carey, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: FIC009020
ISBN: 9780446569118
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2010-05-27T16:00:00+00:00

FORTY-THREE

Several days of pure indolence followed.

In truth, we had little else to do in Udinsk while we waited for the Patriarch to turn his attention away from the south. We listened to gossip in the marketplace, hoping in vain to hear rumors of his movements. Aleksei returned to the smith who had bought my chains and purchased a cooking-pot and a small belt knife for me. We found a sail-maker and commissioned a tent of tough canvas that was done in a day’s time.

Beyond that, our time was our own.

And Aleksei proved an apt pupil.

Betimes I was hard put not to laugh, as determined and earnest as he was. He was Naamah’s child, aye; but he was a scholar by nature and training alike, and he applied a scholar’s discipline to learning Naamah’s arts.

“Tracing the nautilus,” he breathed in my ear, echoing the latest term I had taught him. The tip of his tongue described a dwindling spiral and probed my inner canal rather too insistently. “Moirin, stop giggling!”

“It tickles!”

His blue eyes were wide and sincere. “Isn’t it supposed to?”

“Not exactly, no.” I showed him again, beginning with a line of soft kisses along his jaw, nipping gently on his earlobe, sucking it into my mouth. “Softly,” I whispered into his ear. “Slowly. Delicately; oh so delicately.” I traced circles with my tongue, darting and flickering it until Aleksei shuddered and groaned. I pulled back. “Listen, and pay attention to your lover’s response. After all, that is the most important thing. Let her body’s response tell you what pleases her.”

Letting out a growl, Aleksei pinned me to the bed. “I know what pleases you!”

“Some things, aye.” I wound my arms around his neck, kissing his lips. “Not all, sweet boy. Not even close. And you do not know what pleases this wife you have not yet met, who will no doubt be far less licentious than I. So I suggest you heed my advice.”

By and large, he did.

And by and large, Aleksei blossomed under my tutelage. The sense of grace that Naamah’s blessing had bestowed lingered over us. He remained comfortable in his skin. He walked differently, even stood differently. He held his head higher, no longer ducking it modestly under the slightest scrutiny, blushing less.

His taut, hunched shoulders straightened and squared. The movement of his long, rangy limbs acquired a loose grace. He ate heartily, loved freely. He began to laugh more easily and readily, even at himself.

It was beautiful to see.

I thought often of Aleksei’s mother, Valentina, in those days, wishing she could see her son as I did. It was what she had wanted for him—her caged bird set free, free to stretch his wings and fly, finding his true element. I liked teaching him, but I liked best those times when lessons were over, and Aleksei gave himself over to sheer passion, rocking between my thighs and thrusting deep inside me, whispering blasphemous prayers into the crook of my neck.

But by the fourth day, I was restless, too long confined indoors.

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