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“You need a dog,” she says.
“A dog?”
“A domestic canine. One that’s meant to live in the home and be part of the family. I guess you don’t really encounter those up here in the mountains.”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see it. “No, I suppose not.”
“Tell me something else,” she says. “Help me get to know you.”
“I’m not sure what to tell you. I live a quiet life. Because my parents died when I was young, I consider the tribe to be my family. There is nothing I would not do for them. Most of time is dedicated to the betterment of my people.”
“I get it. Loyalty is important to me, too.”
“It is everything. But let me think, when I am not working…I enjoy zazlakine. I am quite good at it.”
“What in the world is zazlakine?” she asks.
“It is an activity we play in the village. It is part race, part strength competition. We line up boulders of various sizes at the end of a straightaway. The participants must run as fast as they can to the boulders and choose one to break. Whoever can break the largest rock and return to the starting line first is declared the winner. But if the person who reaches the starting line first did not break the largest boulder, then there is a playoff between the one who is fastest and the one who is strongest.”
“And you’re good at it?”
I chuckle. “I am undefeated. In fact, sometimes I choose not to participate, because there are few who will go against me. It is only fair to sometimes give others a chance.”
“And this is just for the men?” she asks.
“Oh, no. All the village plays. The women compete against each other, the children do the same, et cetera. It is the only equitable way to play.”
“What other things do the villagers do?” she asks.
“We celebrate the changing of the weather,” I answer. “When the days get shorter and colder, and then when they lengthen and warm again. We have village festivals with dancing and feasts. The women sing songs and the children braid flowers in our hair. I have even been known to sing myself, from time to time.”
She cranes her neck to look at me. “You sing?”
“When the occasion calls for it.”
“Will you sing to me now?”
I think for a moment, then sing herKesh Merkaj, a lullaby that all troll mothers use to soothe their babies. It is the story of a star visiting our world and learning the names of all the animals that it can see from its home above.
Oaklyn leans more fully against me, relaxing into the music. When I stop, she sighs. “That was beautiful. Even not understanding the words, it’s a lovely melody. And your voice is something else. Such a clear tenor.”
I am inordinately pleased by her praise. “I am glad you enjoyed it.” I run my hand down her arms, gratified when she shivers against me. It seems my bride enjoys my touch. I repeat the caress, and she shivers again. My whole body notices.
“Honestly, you would have been so successful as a massage therapist. I thought it last night and I still believe it. Between your strength and the size of your hands, the way you feel on my skin is magical.”
“If you like, I could touch you more. In other places. In case you’ve forgotten, we were interrupted last night.” I let my hands drift do her rib cage, curious how she’ll respond. She sighs and cuddles closer.
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. Believe me.” Her words go straight to my cock, which stiffens against her backside.
I rearrange her in my arms, turning and lifting her so that she’s straddling my lap, letting her feel what she does to me. “Kiss me,” I demand.
* * *
OAKLYN
Loving the command in his voice, I lean forward and press my lips to his, nothing tentative or unsure about it. He instantly parts my lips with his tongue, dipping inside to taste me.
Situated the way I am, I can feel every inch of Bradoc’s tough, hard body. And I do meaneveryinch. And I do meanhard.
