Page 91 of Dark Destiny: The Turning Of The Loom

"The what?"

She waved a hand in dismissal. "It is what humans call sexual education."

He had to shift on the lounger, because all that talk about sex was having an effect on him.

"By the way, how did you think Sullha became immortal if you did not know it was done with venom?"

"I thought it was some kind of medical intervention."

She chuckled. "In a way it is, only the medicine is manufactured by a male god or an immortal naturally instead of in a laboratory, and it works better than anything a laboratory has ever produced." She leveled her gaze at him. "I have not had a venom bite in five thousand years, but I never forgot its effects and never stopped craving it. I want it, Khiann. I want you."

He swallowed.

"I am not—" He did not know how to say it. "I am not worthy of you. Not yet. I need to be stronger. I need to read and write and work with numbers. I need an occupation that earns a living, so I am not a burden. A male should provide. I might have forgotten what basic bodily functions were for, but I know that to be true."

"That is no longer universally true, but that is not the main point. You were always a perfectionist, Khiann, and I am not saying that as a compliment. I have lived a very long life, and it has taught me the value of compromise. If I had not learned to compromise, I would still be sitting in the frozen North lamenting the loss of the love of my life and almost all of my people. None of the human men who shared my bed came within a thousand miles of you. None of them could give me what you gave me. But it was that or nothing, and I decided against nothing." She pinned him with a hard look. "So should you."

"I do not know if I can."

He did not tell her the rest. He could not.

His erection never lasted for more than a few moments, and even though he only had a general idea of what he was meant to do with it, he knew that it was not functioning at full capacity yet. But even when his body was finally ready and able, he did not have the first clue about pleasing a female, and he was too proud to ask anyone for instructions.

"I do not expect perfection," she said. "To start, you could just share my bed. We need not do anything more exciting than hold each other. That alone would give me great pleasure. The rest will come when it comes. We are a couple, Khiann. In good days, in bad days, and all the days in between."

He swallowed again. His throat had gone dry, and he wanted to reach for the lemonade but did not.

"I know that we are married," he said. "But I do not remember our wedding. I remember watching it in a dream because you described it to me in detail while I was still unconscious, and I remember it from when you told me about it again. But that is not the same as remembering actually being there, and it does not seem real to me."

She opened her mouth to answer him, but as the sliding door opened, she closed it.

"I made your favorite, Master." Ogidu came out with a tray and set it on the low table beside the lemonade. Sandwiches, four of them, each the height of Khiann's fist. Dark bread sliced thick and grilled with layer upon layer of meat between the slices. Roast beef, shaved thin and stacked deep, and something spiced that Khiann had learned was called pastrami. Condiments, pickles, and olives.

"Thank you," Khiann said, but his appetite was gone.

A knot had taken the place of the hunger in his stomach. He picked up the lemonade instead, drank a mouthful, and set it down.

The Odu bowed and went back inside.

"What would make it real for you?" Annani said. "Do you want to see a contract? I do not have it. It stayed with my parents when I fled. Thankfully, we have surviving witnesses who attended our wedding. I can call Tula, Esag, and Wonder over here this afternoon and have them swear to you." Her voice had risen. "And besides, we were lovers months before the wedding. Legalities did not stop you then, and they should not now."

She was upset. He could see it in the set of her mouth, the two spots of color on her cheeks, and the way she had drawn her feet up under her on the lounger. Something about the sight was familiar. Something he recognized without knowing where or when he had learned it.

"Did you always have a temper?" he asked.

"Yes. Especially when you behaved like this."

"Like what?"

"Stubborn. Proud. Irrational."

"I do not think the goals I have set for myself, which I believe are worthy of you, are irrational." He heard the edge in his own voice and did not try to smooth it. He had a temper, too. "You are simply impatient."

Her eyes began to glow.

"You dare call me impatient?" Annani did not raise her voice; she lowered it, which was worse. "I have waited five thousand years for you, Khiann. And now you are here, on my patio, in my house, and you make excuses for why you cannot yet share my bed." She crossed her arms over her chest, lifted her chin, and turned her face away toward the side of her backyard.

"Annani."