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“What?” I croaked.
I’d never been articulate. At least, not as an adult. Though I’d talked incessantly as a child. Asked a thousand and one questions of my mother every day.
Until the trial. Until I learned that speaking, telling your story, using as many words as you could to defend yourself…
Was utterly useless.
And then I’d been sent here, isolated from society with only the other convicts and wardens to speak to as I grew from child to man.
It had been so easy to let my voice die.
But now it seemed that Cherry wanted that voice. The problem was that I was even less able to form words around her than I was the warden and the others. Which led me to answering her question with foolish, single-word questions of my own. I’d lost count of the times I’d responded to something she’d said with “What?” or “Why?”
“I hope I’m not too much… Too outside of what you expected,” she said, sounding nervous. “Your eyes were white when you first saw me. And then the kiss… Sorry about that, too, by the way.”
I stopped myself – barely – from asking “Why?” once again. Like a dunce.
“Surprise is an emotion, too,” I informed her, focusing on getting the words out of my tight throat and ignoring the raging pulse in my chest and in my cock.
“So I didn’t upset you, then?” She asked it somewhat tremulously.
“No.”
I could not think of a single thing she could do that would actually upset me.
Except…
Except leave me when the thirty days were up.
She breathed out in a long, sweet rush over my skin.
“Oh. Good. I was worried I’d offended you or something.”
She should have been more worried about the offensiveness of her husband’s thoughts in that moment. Thoughts about kissing her again outside of a ceremony, thoughts of what her tongue might taste like against my own.
“Whoa. I think your eyes just got whiter.” She hesitated, then let out a low chuckle. “I thought that understanding the white eyes thing would help, but now you’re even more mysterious. What emotion are you feeling right now, Silar?” She laughed again, but it didn’t sound very happy. “I hope it’s not annoyance at how much I’m talking.”
“It isn’t.”
She waited, no doubt wanting me to say more. To try to educate her on the riot inside my own head.
I had no way to untangle it, let alone explain it. There was arousal, surely. That was the most obvious. But it was more than that. There was shock at how strangely good it felt to provide for her, to be the only one to keep her warm. And then there was something else. Something tender and aching, something like a bruise. A sweet sort of pain that made my whole body hurt with the desire to turn towards her and take her entirely into my arms.
Maybe I could do it, under the pretense of making her even warmer. Cover her body with mine like a blanket until she wrapped her own arms around me in turn and…
And she felt the offensive straining of my cock and immediately fled from me.
I should have read more of that stupid book, I said, clenching my fangs together. I hadn’t yet encountered anything in the text about human marital expectations or formalities. Was it proper to hold your wife in bed? Perhaps I could manage it without her feeling the heinous poke of my erection.
Perhaps… Perhaps-
“Can I hold you?” The question tore out of me, sounding strangled, before I even realized I was asking it. I berated myself for lobbing it out there in such a blunt, careless way, but at the same time felt a rush of breathless anticipation at her answer. Likely she would balk and say no. Maybe even ask me to leave the bed entirely.
But maybe…
Maybe she would say yes.
My heart stampeded in my ears, like the hoofbeats of an entire herd. Every nerve bristled beneath my skin. The tip of my cock grew damp beneath my clothing, my sack bunching beneath the hard rod of the organ.
