Wrath-Bearing Tree by James Enge

Author:James Enge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Prometheus Books
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Aloê woke from a warm golden dream with a sudden steely shock. Her limbs were all entangled with an animal or . . . with an animal or something.

It took a moment or two for her to realize that the animal in question was Morlock. He was still blissfully asleep, his face unguarded and peaceful in a way that Aloê had never seen it. He was drooling slightly also.

Memory settled down on her, layer by layer, until she had remembered all of yesterday’s bizarre events. Why she had ever thought Morlock was the solution to her peculiar problem, she could not imagine. . . .

No, that wasn’t fair to her or to Morlock. The man was a problem solver, in many ways the most remarkable man she had ever met, even if he wasn’t so much to look at. And he was crazy about her, in a good way. At the very least she’d found a way to deal with her trouble.

But the situation presented certain difficulties. They still had to work together—and, on this mission, live cheek-by-jowl. What if she decided she didn’t want to . . . to be intimate again? Or what if his infatuation faded? Infatuations do. They had been crazy, reckless, and stupid, but one way out of the dilemma was to look each other in the eye this morning and say, All right; it happened; we don’t regret it. But it’s not going to happen again.

Morlock’s beautiful gray eyes opened and looked straight into hers. “Praise the day, Vocate Aloê,” he said, smiling but somehow serious.

“Bring me off again,” she said: greedily, incoherently, as she kissed his face. And he did, stroking her body with his strong clever hands, kissing her face and neck, whispering words in her ear that she didn’t understand. He carried her over the threshold of orgasm.

Afterward, as she lay there resting in his arms, she said, “Hey. I’m not the first woman you’ve done this with.”

“It’s true,” he said. “I’m no Jordel. But I’ve been around the block a few times, as the saying is.”

“Oh.” A thought occurred to her. “Jordel has not been around my block, in case you were wondering.”

He nodded gravely, accepting this, but saying nothing.

“So who are some of your women? Anyone I know? The Honorable Ulvana, I hope not?”

“Who?” Morlock asked, genuinely baffled.

She laughed aloud, and something inside her that had never stopped hurting . . . Suddenly, it didn’t hurt anymore. Somehow she knew it would never hurt again.

“Never mind,” she said. “What about breakfast? Aren’t you usually up by this time?”

“I suppose so.”

She waited for him to go on, but he didn’t. She thought about all those nights when she was curled up around him for warmth, and he was turned resolutely away, still as a stone. . . .

“You’ve had blue balls for all this time?” she said wonderingly. “That’s why you were always getting up and starting the fire and making things and stuff?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, a little stiffly.

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