Page 41 of Tristan
“Jealous?” I would laugh at him if I didn’t know he’s serious.
“I want to know those things about you, I want to know everything about you. I wish I’d thought to ask you questions, but I’ve never been particularly good at chatting.”
“I’ve gathered. You prefer to order people about and be done with it,” I say.
“Yes, but since being with you, I’ve come to see the error in doingonlythat.”
“You’ve only been with me a few days, Corrik.”
“Yes, and it took far less than that for me to know that I,Sassem! Why is this so difficult?”
It’s my turn to soothe him. I rub his arm and take his free hand.
He tries again. “It took far less than that for me to know I would do anything to make you happy because that’s what makes me happy. If I don’t know you, how am I to do that?”
He seems exasperated by the prospect I might be unhappy, and I realize I haven’t felt unhappy since our wedding night. Not really. I may have been confused, upset and angryat times, but there has been an undercurrent of contentment existing alongside all of that. No person can be a ray of sunshine at every moment; I get the impression that Corrik has this unrealistic expectation for me.
“Corrik, I will be unhappy sometimes, but it doesn’t mean I’m not happy.”
“You hate me,” he says with all the bitterness in the world.
I shake my head. It’s time to tell him my little secret. “I did hate you,reallyhated you. I no longer feel that way.” I don’t expand—Corrik is arrogant enough without me giving him reason to make him more so.
My words do anyway. He smiles, a straight line of pure arrogance. “I knew you couldn’t hate me forever. No one does.”
“That can hardly be true.”
“But it is. People always hate me quite passionately at first, but they never hate me long, though I’ve never had someone hate me quite as passionately as you,” he says. He has to be the best at everything, even being hated.
I whack him on the shoulder. “You conceited bastard.”
He laughs. “No more. No less.” He doesn’t apologize for it and can’t. He’s right; we are who we are, no sense in apologizing over and over for it. Corrik’s ability to remain true to who he is despite some of his character flaws gives him a mysterious attraction. I find I can say with truth that I like him.
In the spirit of being whoIam, I pick up a handful of what looks to be trifle and smear it on his face. His eyes widen as he registers what I’ve done, but not long after he flips me on my back and towers over me. I submit easily. I know he’s stronger—I won’t win—so I lay still and look up to dark violet eyes full of mirth. “How dare you, little husband? I could eat you and no one would care.”
“I hope you will,” I tell him in a voice I hope is seductive.
He leans in to nip at my neck and delicious shivers find their way to my cock as trifle is smeared along my skin. “I shall. I think I shall.”
CHAPTER 10
“Awedding gift for you, D’orhai.”
The wind blows through my hair as I eye the ship moored on the docks of Port Tyreadin from where I stand on the shore and investigate the architecture. I notice the ship’s hull has been carved from a type of wood I don’t recognize. The wood is a deep aqua green making the ship look like it has been carved from marble. A majestic neck swoops up from the bow of the ship; a dragon’s head arches high above the water with the sides made to look like the dragon’s folded wings. It looks like a great warrior and stares down at us.
“Wedding gift?”
“Yes. Commissioned the moment I returned home after the second-best day of my life—the day of our betrothal.”
It has been several weeks of travel since our little ‘date’ and because it went well, the prince has been forthcoming with his feelings to the point I’ve become uncomfortable in a new way; mostly because I don’t feel the same. I’ve grown fond of my Elven prince, a bit territorial even (which I still claim is some kind of Elven voodooignited via sex magic on our wedding night), but I don’t feel as strongly about him as he claims he does for me. I know it hurts him every time I don’t respond in kind, but I won’t lie to him. In the many weeks of travel away from Markaytia, I’ve gotten to know him, and I dare say, life might not turn out so badly for Tristan Kanes—now to convince him that Tristan Kanes is always better with a sword. I’ve attempted many ways to discover the reason for his “Tristan Weapons Ban,” but he refuses to discuss it with me. I’ve concluded it’s either something important, or stupid.
Markaytia has lakes, rivers, streams, and a gorgeous bay, but no direct access to open ocean. You would have to travel for days down the river of Rainayta to meet with the sea. Father never liked boats much, so he seldom made such a journey. He’s never taken me. “I’ve never been on a boat, Corrik,” I remind him. “But I do thank you. It’s magnificent.”
We board the ship with all our gear, horses, and the other Elves. The women of the guard are fierce and look intimidating. I haven’t talked to one yet, but I want to.
Once we’ve made it aboard, we are greeted by more male and female Elves and to my surprise, people who are not Elves. They look human, quite like Markaytians, only just on this side of more than human, like they are beginning to slowly evolve into Elves. They’re the most beautiful humans I’ve ever seen, enough to make me self-conscious. I’m considered attractive in Markaytia, but compared to these sublime humans, I’m an ogre. If Corrik has some kind of human fetish, I can’t fathom why he’d choose me over one of these fine creatures.
Some of the people—both Elf and human—are dressed in attire that would suggest they are here to take care of the ship and us. There are, of course, more members of the Elven military.
