Page 26 of Taken to Lemora
“Lord! I don’t like that either,” he glowers.
I smirk. “Raingar.”
“Good. Now this, Essmira, is the village.”
He points out different buildings, different stores. Within them, I’ve spotted six different species so far and none seem to be treated any better or worse than the rest, though I have noticed that Lemoran make up the bulk of the leadership.
The healer of his village is an exception to that, however — the male is an Asgid. We stop there to give Raingar time to speak to him about some form of honey that he’s acquired. He’s asking about quantities and stores and other items he might need in the future and the male is very respectful to Raingar, despite all his curses and grumbles.
We do this at several more stores — a spice stall manned, or womanned — by a pair of Lemoran sisters, a blacksmith, a keeper of the pad pad beasts, a team that deals in lumber, and a bakery where Raingar insists on stuffing me full of Rekkaru, Hypha and Asgid delights — before finally arriving inside of a shop full of fabrics. All kinds of fabrics.
I feel giddy with nerves and struggle to contain myself as I glance around at the multitude of different colored bolts inside the cool, brightly lit space. Eshmiri orbs float around the low ceilings, shuffling in the wind and casting shadows this way and that, illuminating striking colors, shines and sparkles. It’s stunning.
I try to remain calm and reserved as Raingar approaches the Lemoran male behind the counter. They exchange the traditional Lemoran greeting before Raingar turns to look at me. He frowns and his gaze drops to my toes before sweeping back up.
“Do you need to urinate or defecate?”
“Stars! Nob. Nob, I don’t.” I laugh and snort. I almost cover my mouth to suppress the sound when I remember that Raingar doesn’t seem to mind it, so I don’t. My hand twitches and his gaze falls to it before returning back to my mouth and he smiles, as if he knows the struggle I just went through and is pleased with the outcome. I flush with pride. Pleased to be able to please, as I’ve been trained to feel since forever.
“Nob. I’m just feeling excitement. Thank you, Raingar, for bringing me here. This is amazing. Even just seeing all the options you have is so rewarding. I mean, even if you didn’t mean to purchase anything…”
“Not…not to purchase,” he gasps. “What are you on about! We didn’t come all the way down to the village for you not to purchase!” He’s shouting again and I laugh and roll my eyes.Roll my eyes? Roll my eyes! Are you insane, Essmira?The Igmora voice screams inside.
“I just meant that it’s beautiful. And I’m happy to help you select the material you’d like for your trousers,” I finish with a smile.
“Material,” he all but whispers. “Trousers?”
Staring into his eyes, I feel my lips pinch with pleasure. Every time I speak to him he’s either shouting at me or he’s forgotten what we’re talking about in the first place. And I find it charming. Stupid and unhelpful, but charming.
“I said I’d help you make trousers, Raingar?”
He sucks in a breath and straightens up, his chest puffing out. He looks suddenly twice his previous size, as large as he did when he was fighting the Egama. He takes a brutal step towards me and I feel suddenly caught in his shadow even though the light hasn’t moved. Stars dance in my peripheries. Freaking suns! Raingar is aroused. I can see the bulge forming on the front of his trousers and my own body responds immediately. I step forward, my lips part, my torso sways, too heavy for my legs and between my thighs, liquid heat puddles.
“You’re looking for fabric for pants? Pants for Raingar? Raingar wants new pants?” The female’s voice jerks my attention around and severs whatever poison or elixir Raingar and I were both high off of simultaneously.What the ohr was that?I feel a little shaken. I was taught of pleasure in all its many forms, but never ofthat, whatever that was…
“Yeffa.” I clear my throat. “Yeffa, I am.” I am? What was the question? I clear my throat louder and try again, “Yeffa, I am hoping to make new pants for Raingar and tailor his current pants. I mean…” Ohr! “Not that these aren’t fine trousers. They’re just…I was hoping to slim them down to fit his form.”
The male behind the counter grunts and I tense, worried that I’ve insulted him. Then he says, “I think I made those pants for Raingar’s fat father. I don’t think I’ve ever made a pair of pants for Raingar himself.”
“The last time I told him he needed new clothes, he told me that he’d rather eat fried pad pad dung.” The female stands at one of three sturdy tables littering the space. She looks up from the swatch of fabric in her hand that she’d been studying and grins lopsidedly.
She looks surprised as her eyes flick between Raingar and me and I’m immediately embarrassed by it. Did she seethat, too? Cosmos, I hope not.
“Looks like the issue wasn’t with the pants, but with the tailor. I’m happy to help you help him get out of those rags. What are you looking for, heelee?”
I flush at the implication of her words. Does Raingar…likeme? Like me, like me? Like me beyond my ability to pleasure? Like me as he might a potential female he’d wish to engage with in courtship?
The thought is so overwhelming, it fills me with lethal combinations of hope that it might be true and shame for even considering it. He’s aclan chief. I’m something that was sold. I have a price tag attached to my toes. He’s priceless. We don’t exist in the same realm and I’m a fool for reading into any of his actions. He’s just a gentleman. A grumpy gentleman.
But…hedoeswant me to make him pants and hedidfight an Egama warlord for me.
Banishing these terrible, tantalizing thoughts, I turn my attention fully towards the female, offer her the Lemoran greeting, which she returns, and say quickly, “I’m wondering if you’d be so kind as to point me into the direction of durable fabrics? Feranin fibers may be suitable, but wego or tantu would work just as well.”
She tilts her head left, but I don’t feel uncomfortable under her scrutiny. I just stand beneath her taller form and allow her to look her fill.Not all females benefit from attention. You will allow others to observe you. It is your responsibility to accept this gift and bear it.And sheisstaring. Her striated gaze drags from my hair to my face down to my chest and feet, hidden by my cloak.Had she been Raingar, I’d have opened my cloak to allow her to look more freely.
I heat anew at the thought, unable to help the way my gaze cuts to him. Light trickles in through the skylight in this single story shop. It’s pink, the light, and colors his brown skin pink, too. My gaze travels down his back to reach his hips. His pants fit around his waist far too high and fall haphazardly over his rear. He’s a muscular male and his torso speaks to spans spent doing manual labor.
Many of the Lemoran males and females share large physiques but where some have rounded middles and soft pecs, Raingar has hard ridges that make up his abdomen. His back is streaked with muscles that bunch and flex, even when it seems like he’s hardly moving. His arms are thick and meaty and I imagine his thighs are too, underneath the shapeless material of his pants. I bet he even has quite a nice muscular ass. My mouth twitches to form a smile at that.
