Page 21 of A Taste for the Peculiar

Hot images flash through Pye’s mind. Pictures of Avirin “enjoying” the act with him, hair strewn across his pillows, neck arching under his tongue, lips parted around his name…

For fuck’s sake, focus!

It’s quiet and dark near the back of the gardens. Tall bushes surround them in uniform lines that guide them deeper into the foliage. Once they wander down a corridor, a maze opens before them, sprawling in different directions that all draw the eye.

Pye leans closer to Avirin. “Your choice.”

She scans each path in turn before she tugs Pye behind her, weaving down a flowery passage that seems to guide them further into the maze.

Pye smirks. “I daresay you intend to lead me into the heart of this.”

Avirin flashes a mischievous look over her shoulder. “Perhaps I do.”

The corridor grows tighter. Pye tries to think of anything but the back of Avirin’s neck, the soft place where her hair meets her skin. She had asked him a question. An important one. Pye clears their throat. “The risks can be mitigated with certain potions, but they aren’t a guarantee — nor are they easily accessible. They can only remove the…undesired effect once it has been contracted.”

Avirin’s pace slows with understanding. “These potions…are they legal?”

Leaves scrape Pye’s palms as he presses branches out of the way. By way of answer, he poses a question to her instead. “Do you want children, Lady Avirin?”

Her step falters. “Everyone has children.”

“Not everyone. Do you want them?”

From this angle, he can’t make out her face. Her voice sounds hurried and cramped. “Wives give their husbands children. That’s what happens after marriage. We’re meant to —”

“That is not the question, my lady.”

The two of them emerge from the passage into a space enclosed by hedges. A fountain trickles at its center, the heart of the maze empty save for them. Now Pye can turn to her fully. The moth wings of her mask are bent out of shape, and Pye lifts a hand to smooth out the delicate paper which flutters every time she blinks.

“What do you want for your future?” he murmurs. He should drop his hand. He should put that space between them again, but that yearning returns, a craving to know more. To know her. “What do you want? Without obligation. Without expectation.”

Her lip trembles. There is something that wants to escape her, but she does not put words to it.

Her gaze travels to Pye’s mouth, and his tongue dips over his lips, summoned by her eyes. In response, her pupils swell. The brown of her irises is gone and replaced with deep black inkwells brimming with unwritten words.

“We could be anyone beneath these masks,” she whispers. Her breath is warm against Pye’s lips. “That’s the purpose of a masquerade, isn’t it? A chance to be someone you’re not. Someone you could be in another life.” When she swallows, her throat bobs. “A life where I could be your wife. Where you could be my husband.”

Pye hasn’t dared let themself imagine it. It slams into them full-force now, knocking the breath from their lungs. What if these lessons were merely a glimpse into a lifetime laid out before them? What if the two of them could be together? What if he was blessed to watch Avirin uncover every inch of herself, forever?

It’s impossible. They both know that Pye cannot give her the life she desires, but he is a hopeless creature, a servant to this untapped longing. His body moves without permission, edging closer until their noses brush. Pye gathers her skirts in hand, but they don’t move further until she nods fervently.

“I cannot give you everything,” Pye concedes and sinks to their knees. “But I can give you something.” There’s a whine from the back of her throat that nearly has him pinning her hips to the trellis. “Do you remember what to say if you want to stop?”

It takes her a few tries before she finds the word. “H-honey.”

“And do you want to stop?”

“No.”

He doesn’t deny either of them any longer, hiking her skirts until she can hold them up. He groans at the sight of her. In the study, he’d caught a distant look in the mirror, but now, he can take her in fully. Her thighs are plush and covered with striations, a halo around exactly where he wants to be.

“This is what a husband should offer you.” Pye keeps their eyes on hers, leaning forward to brush their lips along the inside of her knee. “Satisfaction that is purely your own. Attention free of distraction.”

Their mouth drags up her thigh and catches on the texture of her skin. Pye takes it as an invitation, mouthing against the marks until she makes a muffled sound.

He licks his lips to savor the hint of her sweat. “Do you understand?”

Heavy breaths strain the bodice of her dress. “Yes, Sir.”