Page 81 of Vows of Sacrifice

“Okay,” she agreed, surprisingly accommodating.

I waited for her to settle down before finally attempting a brief glance in her direction. Good. She was seated, and most of her body was out of my depraved view. I then looked for something that could . . . I rushed to the wardrobe and pulled out a blanket with a sigh of relief, then hurried to cover her with it.

My wife raised her head and a questioning look crossed over her face. My irises must have returned to their human form, for nothing shocked her when our gazes locked.

“Ashana, I’d really like you to eat, but if I leave you in this outfit, you won’t have the chance,” I explained in my most conciliatory and gentle voice.

My blood vibrated in my veins. Everything in me was throbbing. I was ravaged by desire, desire to possess her and unite with her, yet I had to control myself. I served her meticulously, as if concentrating on this task would help me keep control of my impulses.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked, realizing that I wasn’t putting anything on my plate.

I gave her a burning look.

“I’m starving.”

She blushed. So much, in fact, that her ears also turned scarlet. This time, she’d understood the implication right from the start, and I was glad. Talk to her, Dovah, quickly!

“Have you had a chance to, er . . . talk to your chambermaids?”

Really? That’s the only subject you could come up with? Hypnotized, I contemplated the piece of potato that she slipped between her fleshy lips, imagining something entirely different in its place. I closed my eyes for a moment. Dovah, you obsessive bastard!

“Yes, and it was a great help to me. For example, they told me that . . .”

Instead of finishing her sentence, Ashana stopped in the middle, while staring at her slice of roast with an expression that was both embarrassed and pensive.

“Tell me. You can talk to me about anything,” I encouraged her gently.

“That . . . That the size of your, uh . . . Well, that we could rely on the size of your hands, and you have big hands.”

“The size of my . . .” I repeated.

And then it dawned on me. Did she think I had a big penis? Was she afraid I was going to hurt her? Or was she a little excited by the prospect? My mind raced at the thought.

“Well, that’s not . . . wrong,” I hesitated.

I couldn’t very well tell her that I had a small penis—because that wasn’t true, was it?—but I didn’t want to frighten her either.

“Ashana,” I continued more seriously. “I will be gentle with you. I’m aware of your innocence and it’s also my role as your husband to guide you in this discovery of your body and your pleasure. At least, until you know exactly what you enjoy in the privacy of our bed.”

I sincerely hoped I’d found the right words to reassure her on this point. Ashana smiled at me, then continued pecking away at her plate before grabbing a few grapes. I couldn’t help but notice.

“Not to your taste?”

She smiled at me once again with a blatant lack of confidence. I was on edge, and when you knew my nature, it was quite a comical image.

“Actually, I’m not very hungry. I’m too nervous to eat.”

I took a deep breath. Ah . . .

“Ashana?”

Her gaze locked on mine and I understood how anxious she was.

“Yes?”

“When you feel ready, I would like you to kiss me.”

I left the first initiative to her, the very first step in what was to be our sacred union. Her eyes widened in surprise, then she gave me another smile—a real one, full of emotion and gratitude. I didn’t move, not for a moment, as she stood up, wrapped in the blanket, and approached me.

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