I long to taste her again, and look into her big blue eyes as she takes my length into her tiny mouth. I want to bury myself in her, feeling the heat between her thighs on my cock as I fill her with seed.
Does she, too, desire such a union? Does she desire more?
My gut roils at the feeling that I have lost control. That somehow, this weak Penticari woman has made me lose myself.
I wish I knew what she was thinking. Of why she is suddenly so icy with her temperament.
Last night, when she told me she was going with Nori and Dogan, I believed it was due to her desire for the bugs. But when I told her it would be me taking her out, she got quiet and did not look up from her weaves until she retired for the night.
When she went to sleep, I half expected her to crawl into bed with me, and I made sure to leave room for her. Instead, she chose to sleep on the floor in a pool of weaves.
I should be pleased by her distance, as I have much to think about with the arrival of the great princess, which could happen in a handful of years.
Yet all I feel is sorrow.
Since we are not moving outside of our territory, we should encounter no Veriskans, yet I cannot help but be more cautious, looking in the direction of every snapped twig. It was never like this with Amber, for at times, I wanted to forest to swallow her whole.
A few steps ahead, Asha rotates her shoulder, muttering under her breath. Since it is midday, I decide it would be a good time for first rest.
She sits on a log, fanning herself, sweat pouring down her face, giving her a most enticing aroma.
Did the princess even have a scent? If she had, I have long since forgotten it.
“Here.” I hand her a heel of bread that her own Violet baked. It lacks the flavors I enjoy, but I must admit, it is tasty to eat when topped with delicious bruntler.
“I’d thought Melgrim would be a lot more inhospitable than it is.”
“This path through the forest is typically safe to travel, as we use it so often it has our scent and animals are too smart to desire to cross our path.”
She nods, ripping off a chunk of crust and nibbling on it.
Everything she does is dainty. Her steps, her chewing, even her fingers as they weave look unnaturally graceful.
“Sometimes, when I close my eyes, it still feels like I’m in Penticar,” Asha confesses.
“And when you keep your eyes open?”
“I see the differences clearly. The color of the leaves, the feel of the dirt, those ribbons as they slice through the air.”
“I, too, miss my homeland,” I confess.
She chuckles. “I never said I missed Penticar.”
I spike a brow. “Is it not safer there? Does it not hold your family?”
“I suppose my father’s castle walls were safe enough, but I never had a real and true family.”
I remember her telling me her family sent her away, but beyond that, her life is a mystery. One I long to hear more about.
“Were you betrothed?”
“No, but I’m sure I would be by now if I hadn’t been taken.”
“Does it sadden you that you will never meet your intended?”
“Not at all, as it was likely I would have been married to an old, craggy man I’d have no interest in spending any amount of time with.”
“So you would rather be here than with the safe, old man.”
