Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Better already,” I say.
“Behold the healing power of sharing blankets,” Vali teases. “You’ll be so tired of me hogging the bed that you’ll miraculously get better faster.”
“More like having a pretty wife at my side makes me realize how much I hate being helpless.” I rub her arm, and it feels so easy to be with her. It makes me happy. Vali makes me happy. I gaze down at her, at her lovely, upturned face. “May I kiss you?”
“If you want to.”
Her answer bothers me. It’s as guarded and neutral—and permissive—as when I first met her. When she was trying to please me. “It’s not about what I want, Vali—”
“But it is. You didn’t want a wife, and I’ve nowhere to go if you get rid of me, so I’ll be whatever you want me to be. If you want to kiss me, kiss me.”
It feels like we’ve gone all the way back to the beginning, thanks to my careless mouth. “Then we don’t kiss if you cannot be honest with me about whether or not you want my kiss.”
“Very well.”
We don’t kiss. But we don’t get up, either. I Just hold Vali against my side and wonder what I can do to fix this. How do I woo and prove myself when I’m in my sickbed?
Can I afford not to?
Chapter
Twenty-Six
RANAN
Aweek passes, and the easiness between myself and Vali remains gone. She sleeps curled at my side every night and wakes up in my arms every morning…but there is something missing. Gone is the spontaneous affection for each other. Gone are the quick kisses and her laughter. I have not asked her to sit upon my face and she has not reached for my cocks.
We are very friendly strangers, and I hate it.
It is difficult for me to do anything, however, thanks to the fact that I am forced to sit in bed and rest my leg. That, and Daidu keeps pouring potions down my throat that make me sleep for most of the day. When I am awake, I always look for Vali, though. I hunger for the sight of her, for her soft smiles and the sweet fan of her lashes when she looks down. The way her nose wrinkles adorably when she smells what Daidu keeps feeding me.
I’m utterly besotted with my wife, and she has pointed out to me that we are not truly married. My pride has withered into dust.
When a few more days pass and Daidu proclaims I no longer need potions to speed my healing, the days grow even longer with nothing to do. With the healer’s help, I move outside of the tent and work on mending nets, since that only requires hands.
Today, I am outside the healer’s tent in the sunshine. It rained yesterday, keeping those with projects from doing their work. They are spread out today on the flotilla, the humid air full of the sounds of voices. People have hides spread out, and someone is drying fish. My father’s father is weaving, my father is off fishing for the day’s meals, and I have nets.
So many nets.
I mend nets, knotting and weaving cords, and I watch my mate laugh and talk with Balo and my uncle Dorran nearby. They stand in front of Dorran’s tent, near the center of the flotilla, and the breeze catches Vali’s hair and makes it drift against her face. She carelessly pushes it back, and I watch her graceful movements and her delicate hands.
I think of those hands as they stroked my cocks, and her sultry smile of pride as she did so. And I sigh and watch my woman with the two men and try not to feel resentment.
Try, and fail.
They have become fast friends, those three. My uncle is as good-natured as his husband and has a great affection for humans. He’s old enough to be Vali’s father and he looks upon her like one. Balo is the one she spends the most time with, though, and I grow to hate the sight of his bleached, easy grin. I hate the way he is always at her side, being helpful.
I hate that he is teaching her all the things I should be, and instead I am sitting in the sun and mending nets like my mother’s mother’s father, who is so ancient he cannot even walk straight and spends most of his days seated under a nut tree, napping.
“What did that net ever do to you?” my mother asks, sinking down to sit next to me.
“Eh?” I look over at her in surprise.
She brings a conch full of juice to my side, sinking down next to me and offering it. “I’m not sure if you’re repairing that net or trying to tear it apart with your hands. Does something trouble you?”
I scowl down at the net I’m working on, because my knots might be a little tighter than they should be, and the rope might be stretched, just a little. “I wasn’t paying attention.”