Page 25 of Taken to Lemora
I look up at him and he quickly turns forward. I smile, the tingling getting stronger in my belly, affecting the tops of my thighs, making them itch. I recognize the symptom for what it is — my body’s growing need. I only hope that he can’t scent arousal like some other species can.How embarrassing…
“Do you…dislike pad pads, my lord?” I ask as we round another bend.
The path disappears over the hill behind us, taking the last sight of Raingar’s keep with it, while in front of us, a cluster of boulders parts to reveal Raingar’s village below. It’s beautiful.
Small houses and stores come together in the center of a shallow valley. Moss, rather than grass, covers the dark soil everywhere else. Against the horizon, a single enormous star glows.
Large though it is, the heat it emits isn’t so violent. With the cool winds and gentle, intermittent rainfall, I still require a cloak. Raingar seems immune to it.
“Dislike? I hate them! Do you not see their faces? They’re always smiling about something, like they’ve got the secrets of the universe hidden underneath all that fur. Fur! How ridiculous for this climate.”
I smirk. Smirk! Ladies don’t smirk. Or do they? I can’t seem to recall Igmora’s wisdom on the subject so, I decide then to define my own. Smirking is okay.
“Do they not originate on this planet?”
He scowls. “Of course they do.”
I tamp the urge to snort again by biting the inside of my cheek. “So you don’t like them because they have fur?”
“I don’t like them because I don’t like them.” I think that’s all he’s going to say until he offers. “They smile too much.”
I can’t help it. I belt out a laugh. It goes far, far beyond a snort and it honestly surprises me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a sound. At least, never from my own mouth.
I’m still walking when I realize Raingar isn’t. I turn, ready to apologize for whatever I’ve done to offend him, but the expression on his face wipes away that urge cleanly. He looks totally stunned. I glance back behind me. Perhaps…the sight of the village.
“It is beautiful,” I tell him. “You must be very proud.”
He licks his lips. “Very proud. Extremely proud. Proud. Pride. Pride?” He shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”
“Certainly not your pants.” Oh my stars! Did I just say that!
Raingar’s brows rise and he blinks suddenly, in rapid succession. His chest inflates and I don’t fail to notice the tightening of his heavily defined abdomen. And then laughterexplodesout of him. He releases a flurry of laughter so loud that it startles the pad pad trotting towards us and the Asgid riding it.
The rider is smiling though, and the pad pad is obviously smiling, too. What’s funny is that I’m used to males looking at me, but this rider isn’t. I like that. It feels…liberating, not to be seen.
Instead, he’s smiling fondly at Raingar and I suck in a breath, feeling almost giddy.They love him, it occurs to me.The surliest brute in the cosmos, and they love him for it.
The rider’s laughter dwindles and the pad pad huffs out a happy breath before plodding contentedly past us. I scamper out of its path, but the movement sends me crashing into Raingar directly.
“Off. Sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I reach instinctively to straighten his shirt, but he isn’t wearing one. I end up pawing his pectorals instead. When I should pull back, I linger. His skin is so rough, it feels like textured fabric, courser than untreated cotton but still much softer than untreated wool. He freezes underneath my touch and I still. The urge to touch him more grows stronger, more intense.
He reaches his hand towards my face and touches one of my black, springy curls. “I think Merquin may be right,” he says distractedly before shuddering suddenly and withdrawing from me. My palms feel cold in the absence of his heat, even though I burn with embarrassment at having touched him — a stranger, ostensibly — so freely.
“In my limited experience, she often is,” I tease for thesecondtime. Ohr! What is wrong with me? “Sorry, I…”
“Oghh, don’t you dare tell her I’m agreeing with you, but you’re right. Sheisalways right and you need to listen to her.”
Horror that I’ve missed some important directive crushes me. “I’m so sorry, I…”
“That!” He shouts. “There! You did it again.”
“What?”
“Apologized! I hate it! Stop it!”
“Oh…” I don’t know what to think. “Um…” I go to apologize, then quickly amend, “Of course, my lord.”
