Page 58 of Taken to Lemora
“I thought as much. Merquin has over a dozen assistants but he leaves all of their work to you. You do an incredible job, Gorman, but I’d be honored to take some work off of your plate.”
Gorman’s fins bristle and I get the impression he’s unused to compliments. “Thank you, miriga. Your words are kind.” He swallows hard.
“They’re true. You should hear them more often.” I peg Raingar with a look.
He throws his hands up in the air. “The two of you are going to be the end of me. You, in particular.” He points at my nose. I stick my tongue out at him. He clenches his hand into a fist and his eyes heat rapidly.
I bite my bottom lip and try to focus on the fact that we aren’t alone and have company. “I can…”
Gorman cuts me off. “You make a fine miriga, miriga.” He looks down at me with an expression that’s tender and soft.
“A wild one.” Raingar’s mouth forms a half smile, not quite realized. “But only if it is a title you want to have.”
My heart clenches. I step towards him and then skip, nearly jogging by the time I cross the floor and melt onto his lap. He grips the arms of his chair and I don’t care that he’s stiff or that he isn’t touching me. I remember more and more from my lobba-filled lunar and recall him dancing just like that. Like he was frightened to hurt me. I know he still is. But right now, I don’t care about any of it.
I crush my mouth to his and drink in his surprised gasp that tastes like sunshine and moss, that tastes purely like Lemora. Raingar grunts against my mouth, lips moving fiercely even though his touch is feather-light as it slides around my lower back.
I untangle myself slowly from the embers of desire that threaten to engulf me and him and the room with it, and he releases a desperate groan but he doesn’t try to hold me still.The female should always… This female never will again.
“It is an honor, Raingar.” His eyes, just as bright and as colorful as the window behind him, flood with desire, and spark with little joys. I kiss his nose. What compels me to, I don’t know. “When do I start?”
Raingar goes to answer but Gorman clears his throat. “Given that the Asgid delegation is set to arrive in the next moon rotation, I’d say you’re already late, miriga.”
15
Raingar
Watching her work is an inspiring thing. Turns out, Igmora managed to equip her with all the knowledge under the suns. It seems she’s good at everything and, when word gets out that she’s taking on more tasks — any tasks she chooses to accept — the desire for her assistance becomes a long list she can’t ever hope to accomplish in this lifetime, or the next.
But it’s an impressive thing to watch her try. Because that’s all she can do. Try for her clan, as she tries for me each lunar, pressing her body so temptingly against mine. I know she’s trying to break me but I’m not ready. Not yet.
But maybe…maybe soon?
And in the meantime, she continues her tailoring with Lyla, spinning bulberry fibers with Timor, producing pouches and pouches of her soothing horn oil with Leelee — she’s even been asked to step in to provide courses on stretching and breathing by Moreth who often finds himself inundated by Lemoran mine workers complaining of minor aches and pains that would better require her assistance than his.
The Asgid festival of lightning or sunshine or whatever the ohr it is dominates most of her time now. She has almost everything organized, acting as the intermediary between myself and the rowdy Asgids or just procuring directly the things that she needs for them. The only thing she lacks so far is a space to host it. But I…I have an idea for her. I’m just hesitating on whether or not to show her this solar, or the next, or the one after… Because I’ve been thinking about this for so long, dreaming of it. But am I ready to show her?
My mind says nob, but my body — my ohring cock — screams yeffa every chance it gets.
And my heart? It wants to do something for her. Something spectacular. Because she does so much for my people. And for me? She does even more for me.
She calls me Raingar.
“Raingar!” She jumps up when she sees me unoccupied on my throne. I’ve just finished dealing with the complaints of these hooligans who comprise my clan and was about to go seek her out for second meal. It looks like she’s found me first.
My lips twitch and I stand, descend the short steps that lead down from the throne, and catch her when she tosses herself up at me, like she so often does. I worry about hurting her, but with the new polishing technique Moreth helped me with, my skin glides smooth over hers, and no longer catches.
“What is it,Essmira?” I kiss her freely now and, like every time, I sway into her scent —pure Lemora, unblemished affection. It makes me want her so desperately, I could pull stars from the sky in offering, but I know that when I invite her to complete my mating bond, it won’t be like the first time. I want it to be perfect.
I set her feet down onto the floor below, and though I might not cause her pain anymore with my touch, the same isn’t true for her. She glides painfully over the exposed skin of my chest, her breasts pushing against me through her thin dress. Why is it so ohring thin? I need to get thicker fabrics here on Lemora. Maybe, the Voraxian clan living on the ice planet, Nobu, will have furs I can buy next time I run into them.
“Essmira?”
She looks ready to burst, stars in her eyes like a youngling at the fire celebrations in the north.“Bebette told me that you heard from the Raku of Voraxia!” She bounces on her toes in anticipation.
I scowl, “Bebette has a large ohring mouth!”
She squeals, “So it’s true? And you spoke to him about me?”
