Page 28 of Taken to Lemora
I hadn't wanted to be bought and sold by the creatures I encountered in Quadrant One though, at least those I met before Raingar. But now, hearing the reactions of the other Lemoran, I feel even worse. What Igmora and Tyto made me is a shameful thing in this society and it hurts to know that that’s how these proud, strong creatures view me.
I rub the cut on my palm, distracted by it, until the doors blow open and the three Lemoran return, expressions entirely changed. Raingar is holding onto one of his horns again and has trouble meeting my gaze. It makes me frown.
Could it be the pain his horns are causing him that pushes him sometimes toward me, and other times farther away? I make a mental note to ask him to stop at the herb and flower stalls so that I can pick up some materials to press soothing ointment for them.
Lyla starts to smile and turn to face me, but Raingar reaches up in a menacing motion, grabs her by the horn and wrenches her back around. They exchange a few more hushed words that I can’t make out before breaking apart. It bothers me, the sight of his hand on her horn, and I find myself frowning at the pair, even as they both turn back around.
“So! Yeffa! I have materials for your pants,” she says, voice cheery, while the male shop owner resumes his place behind the counter.
“We’re sorry for our outburst, heelee.”
I shake my head, shame still making my eyes prickle. “It’s alright. I just…” Nob. I won’t say anything. I don’t want to make them uncomfortable. “Nevermind.” I shake my head and force a smile, but all three of them are frowning at me now.
Raingar steps forward, blocking out everything behind him with his broad shoulders and rocky frame. My gaze tips to his horns, and then to his eyes. It’s hard. He isn’t a hard male. A grumpy male, sure, but a hard one? Nob. It’s an unusual look for him and makes me nervous.
“What is it, Essmira?”
I’m a practiced liar, having been trained by the best, but I find myself incapable of getting the words out. Instead, I utter a soft truth, “I did not know that pleasure mates were so shameful here on Lemora. If I had, I wouldn’t have brought it up. I didn’t mean to shame you.”
“Shaaaaaame?” His voice strangles. He grabs onto his chest, hands clawing at his center like he’s trying to tear through it. “You…shame…nob…nob nob nob.” He starts walking towards me and I back up because otherwise, it looks like he’d run me over.
“Raingar?”
“Nob nob nob nob.” He doesn’t stop walking, not until my back hits a bolt of fabric. There’s an open window to my left that looks out onto the street. I’m surprised to see several faraway faces peeking through it. Young faces, when they see me, they squeal and disappear. I might have laughed if I weren’t so concerned and had Raingar’s hands not slammed against the wall beside my ears.
“You shame no one,” he grunts, voice like gravel dipped in honey and dragged through shards of glass. The moment holds its breath — or maybe just I do — before he lowers his face just a little towards me.
“We don’t have pleasurers here, but we do have a few beings who are now Lemoran but who began as pleasurers. They were enslaved against their will and were only able to venture here by escaping, or because they were too old to be of use to the pleasure houses anymore. Lemora is a safe place for all and we don’t judge anyone. We just don’t have experience with pleasurers who…who pleasure by choice.”
I nod, feeling embarrassed all over, and look down at our feet. His three toes against my five. I’m not wearing shoes, but he’s wearing thick sandals. I don’t know why, but I find the sight of our feet juxtaposed like that kind of funny. Kind of erotic, too.
“Do you…” Raingar swallows, sounding perturbed himself. It’s enough to bring my gaze back up to his. He swallows again. “Would youliketo be a pleasure female?” His voice cracks a dozen times over those eight little words, if I’m counting correctly.
A rogue smile breaks out over my face, completely twisting the shame that had been spiraling through me until it winks out of existence. I lick my lips. His gaze flutters down to them. I inhale deeply. His gaze flutters down to my breasts.
“Yeffa.”
His expression hardens, eyes snapping back to mine. I can hear the sound of his fingertips scraping over the hard wood on either side of my head.
And then I whisper, “But only for the right male.” I hope he hears the implication that I’m too much of a coward to voice as a demand. I hope he hears my need.
I think he does, because his face morphs into a mask of shock, but he recovers quickly. Pressing his entire body forward slightly so that we’re separated by little more than my forearm’s length, his heat washes over me.
“Just for one male?”
“Yeffa. Just for one male.”
He chokes and comes forward a little more, to the point that I lose focus on his face and look at his chest instead. I have to clench my palms around my scar in order to stop from touching him.A female must wait for permission before touching the male…Ohr that.
I slide my palm over his pectoral, smoothing over the flat, dark brown nipple.
He bends down and growls in my ear, “But Essmira, would you not rather be a mate?”
“A mate?”
“Yeffa. A mate.”
My fingers slide down…down… “I don’t know anything about that.” I touch the top of his pants, fingers so dangerously close to the single strap that holds them up on his narrow hips. So close, I could just…pull it.
