Page 58 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor's Destiny
What Vardor was offering seemed too good to be true. Had his madness taken over my mind too? Was insanity contagious? I didn't think so, but it had to be, because I believed with all my heart that he was telling the truth.
I saw the knife move into his stomach; I could still see where it had cut the material of his clothes. The blade hadn't broken off, it hadenteredhis stomach. I saw it.
There was only one explanation: he was a god.
I had no idea how this reconciled with what I had been taught all my life about God. No, not only taught, but believed. I went to church every Sunday, every holiday. I listened to the gospel, I read the Bible. Yet, I allowed, I had also studied as much as I could about Egypt, and they had believed in their gods. Just as fully as I did in mine. They had been convinced they were real. Was one of them right in front of me now?
It never occurred to me before to question religion, but now I wondered. For thousands of years, the Egyptians had believed in their gods, as did the Greeks and Romans, and now, I allowed, all who we call heathens around the world. Were they, though?
Alright, this was something to mull over at another time, I decided. Right now, there were far more important things to consider, namely, how good Vardor had made me feel. My body, despite my fainting stint, was still tingling with never beforeexperienced sensations. My flesh was still sensitive to the touch. Nothing had ever felt this good.
I might not have known much about what happened between a man and a woman on their wedding night and beyond, but I wasn't completely naïve. Babies were made that way—whatever way that was. And now I had a small idea how much pleasure came with the act.
My entire life, I have lived to fulfill certain standards. Obedience to my dad was the first, obedience to the law another. As a woman, I have conformed to certain protocols and rules of etiquette and never broken one.
Free!
Vardor said. I was free. He was right too. I was. At least I was free to do whateverheallowed me to do. But whenever I managed to escape, I would truly be free. Which meant I would have to live with the consequences of my own actions. Having relations with Vardor would be a complete break from everything I had ever done and known. It was an irrevocable act. It might even leave me with child.
If he weren't here, I wondered, if I were trulyfree, would I regret having his baby, or would I regret more not having had sexual congress with him? Just thinking that phrase made me blush. It had crossed my mind more often in the last hour than it had my entire life before. The answer to that was simple. I wasn't sure about the baby, but I was sure I would regret not having given in tomy wantsand taken what he offered.
According to the church, I would be a damned woman if I had a child out of wedlock. If I hadsexual relationsout of wedlock. But how much did the church and God really mean to me? I pondered that a moment, searching deep inside. I had prayed, as much as any good Christian, but God had never been a part of me like He seemed to be for others. The religious fervor others expressed had escaped me. I had gone to churchlike everyone else. It was like eating, or doing my chores. It was part of my life. A routine. Honestly, I had looked forward to my Sunday afternoon visits with Abbie more than anything else.
You'll go to hell, a little voice whispered. But would I?
Stop, my heart screamed. You are not Roweena any longer. Not the Roweena who left London. No matter what, there was no returning to my old life for me. After having been for weeks with Vardor, neither my father nor Thomas would take me back even if I wanted to return. I was tarnished goods. Spoiled goods. My old life and the old Roweena were gone.
So what did new Roweena want to do?
Vardor was sitting on the edge of the bed, studying me, waiting for my mind to come to terms with the truth. Carefully, I sat up, but any remnant of dizziness was gone.
Wordlessly, I pulled down the dress I had been clutching against my chest. At some point, Vardor must have loosened the ties to my corset, a discovery that should have embarrassed and outraged me; instead, it was just that—a discovery. I pulled the strings through the little holes.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes riveted on my hands.
"I don't know much about this," I replied, raising my eyes to meet his. There was no hesitation in me, no second thoughts, not even embarrassment. "You'll have to teach me, but I do know that we should be naked, shouldn't we?"
The way his pupils dilated, how his expression switched from surprise to desire and hunger made me feel powerful. More powerful than I had ever felt in my life. I might be physically weaker than him, but I was finding out fast that I held certain powers in my hands too.
As soon as all the strings were out of the corset, I flung it to the ground, "No more. I will noteverwear that thing again."
His eyes glinted in approval, but I cautioned him, "People might start talking about me, us."
"Do I look like I care?" He shot back.
"No," I laughed. And that was freeing on its own. Not caring what other people thought or said? What was more liberating than that?
There was not a trace of shame between us when we finally stood fully naked in front of each other. Had I ever imagined this moment, I would undoubtedly have been mortified and humiliated. I was neither. There was only curiosity.
So this was what a man's body looked like? I liked it. I liked it very much. I liked the hard ridges and taut muscles, ropes and ropes of muscles. Liked how his skin quivered when I brushed my fingers over his stomach, up his wide chest. He was hard. So hard. Everywhere. I hadn't called up the courage yet to look lower, but it would be only a matter of moments.
Vardor stood still, sensing I needed this time to familiarize myself with the strangeness of his body. So different from mine. Slowly, I moved around him, brushed over his biceps, and felt them flexing underneath my fingers. A rush of heat spread through me. His back was just as toned and muscular as his front. Its dark coloring stood out against my pale skin.
When I returned to his chest, I took a deep breath, stepped back, and slowly lowered my eyes. I swallowed, his... his... cock—oh my God, I couldn't believe I thought that word, heat rushed to my face—stood up, bobbing against his stomach, the tip reaching his naval. I wasn't sure what I had expected, but not this. How did men keep that hidden?
Stop thinking!
I took a step forward, but he stopped me, "My turn."
