Page 262 of Kingdoms of Night

“His stamen,” Enid offered, eying his cock with interest.

Geraint blinked at the foreign word she’d used. He’d never thought of plants as being male or female. “When a man inserts his stamen into a female’s…”

“Pistile.”

Though the words weren’t the same naughty ones that humans would use, warmth spread through Geraint’s cheeks to hear her speak in such a manner. He hadn’t been with crass women. None had referred to their intimate parts as their pussies or his dick. But he loved hearing the coarse words from Enid’s delicate mouth. He wanted to hear her say stamen again. But first he wanted to be inside her pistile.

“Go on,” she said. “When a human male inserts his stamen into a female human’s pistile... Is there something different that happens after that?”

He was shuddering like an untried teenager. His brain was filled with visions of him and Enid in a field of flowers as he thrust inside her lush body. His wife was a dirty talker, without her even knowing it, and it delighted him.

She seemed to know the mechanics of the act. He gave himself a shake before speaking again. “No, there is nothing different between men and women. A woman loses her virginity when a man puts himself inside her for the first time.”

“The first time? Why is that important?”

“Um, well, because... It’s the first time.”

“What about the times after that? Does she become a virgin again when she takes a new man into her bed?”

Geraint didn’t like this frame of questioning. “There will be no one else anywhere near your bed.”

Enid nodded vigorously at that pronouncement. “Yes, I would prefer to be monogamous. I’ve pollinated with enough plants.”

“You’ve… what?”

Geraint knew that most marriages suffered from communication issues. He ran her words through his head again… and then again. No matter how many times he repeated that last sentence, it still made no sense.

“You haven’t?” she asked. “Pollinated?”

Her hand reached out to him, stopping just before touching his arm. The gesture felt patronizing as her features turned from confusion to concern. He felt a flush creep up his neck as she studied him anew.

“You haven’t had sexual intercourse with another of your kind, I mean? Are you a virgin?”

“No, I’m not a virgin.” His brows wanted to rise into his hairline, but his face went still. No, not still. The bottom half of his face went heavy due to the tension in his jawline.

“Well”—Enid raised her hands, showing him her empty palms—“neither am I.”

“Apparently not.”

The bite of his words must have been loud and clear because she dropped her hands back at her side. A green vine curled around her index finger. Out of self-protection or self-defense, he didn’t know. What he did know was that he was being an ass.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not slut shaming you.”

“I have a feeling I don’t want you to define the word slut.” She crossed her arms at her midsection. The small vine snaked around her bicep and over her shoulder like protective armor.

Armor against him—the man who had just sworn that no harm would ever befall her again. Yet here he was, standing in her bedroom and making her feel shame. This was not how he had expected his wedding night to go.

“Enid, I’m sorry.”

Remorse weighed like a cloud around Geraint’s shoulders. He wanted to throw the feeling down and make them both feel better. He wanted to hold her again and make her sigh, make her smile.

Unfortunately, there was now a weary set to those sweet lips he’d tasted just a moment ago. There was a guarded expression that snuffed out the light in her eyes.

“I’m feeling rather tired after all the excitement,” she said. “Perhaps we should just retire so that we’re ready for our journey to Camelot in the morning.”

“But we need to consummate the marriage.”

The words came out of his mouth before ever setting foot in his brain. The directive hadn’t come from the top down. No, it had come from the groin up. Despite all his talk of virginity and pollination, his cock was still standing by, eager for some attention.

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