“Youdo, but the government doesn’t.”
He couldn’t refute that and refused to lie to her, so he redirected the conversation. “What is it you wish to accomplish?”
“I want to know what you, Bran, and Zul are doing that involves national politics.”
He frowned again and his hand stilled. “What makes you think that?”
“That you’re discussing national politics?”
“Yes.”
Ursula slid her hand down his body to stroke his once-again erect cock with a teasing, feather-light touch. “If you were discussing local politics, I would have heard about it by now.”
Gil’s gut clenched. She was too perceptive. Ursula gave him a sultry grin and pushed at him with her other hand. He obliged and rolled to his back. She crawled over him, centered her core, and sank down. He groaned as her sex enveloped his and indescribable pleasure zinged through his veins. She began to roll her hips, and he groaned again and slid his tail into her anus.
She moaned at the delicious intrusion, then said, “I’ll get my answers, Gil.”
He grasped her hips to control her movement and rolled them over. Grinning at her, he thrust into her body and made her gasp. “Not from me.”
With the stamina of his kind, he tortured his bride for attempting to manipulate him with sex. He drove her to the precipice of orgasm only to stop her from taking the leap to climax until she sobbed and pleaded to be allowed fulfillment. When he finally did have mercy, she screamed loudly and long as her body shook helplessly beneath overwhelming waves of pleasure. Only when she lay quiescent and lax beneath him did Gil drive himself to his own completion.
As usual, he recovered first and carried her into the adjoining bathroom where he washed her and brought her to yet another climax.
The next morning when alone with Zul, she asked him. That time, however, she did not attempt to manipulate him through sex as she was certain Gil would have informed the other two of his warrior triad what she’d attempted to do. She knew they shared mental conversations like that, conversations to which she was not privy. Ursula was rather tired of not being included in conversations.
She lay languorous beside Zul in his bed for the same reason she’d lain beside Gil the previous afternoon. “Zul?”
His tail prodded her swollen folds and stroked through their seed-slicked wetness. “You wish to speak of the visitors to Fangrys.”
She sighed. “Yes. Why won’t any of you tell me what’s going on?”
He rolled over her, propping himself up on his arms and wedging his hips between her legs. “Because it doesn’t affect you.”
“There are a lot of things that don’t affect me directly, yet I know about them,” she pointed out and gasped as he drove forward, drilling his revived cock into her body even as his tail moved to penetrate her ass. She squealed as he set a punishing rhythm that had her breasts bouncing and her thoughts melting.
Zul concentrated on driving his mate to orgasm then found his release while her walls contracted around his cock. After his cock deflated sufficiently to withdraw from her body withoutcausing her to further contract around him, he indulged himself and her in the usual after-care of a bath during which he brought her to yet two more climaxes. Zul enjoyed that almost as much as finding his own release. Caring for her satisfied something deep and needy within his soul, a gentle, nurturing aspect of being mated that puzzled, delighted, and calmed his berserker nature.
Ursula spent that afternoon in her studio adding to the inventory for her shop. She did not see the arrival of yet another mysterious visitor, but she noticed the scurry of castrati which indicated a disruption in their normal routines and deduced what was going on. As the clay rose and fell beneath her skilled hands and gradually took the sensuous shape she envisioned, she considered whether it might be worth the risk to eavesdrop on the conversation.
Don’t even consider it, came Bran’s mental admonition.The castrati will be instructed to prevent you from eavesdropping.
Ursula sighed. She wished she could read her mates’ thoughts as they read hers, but the bond didn’t work that way. The clay bent under her hand, the vase ruined. With a muttered curse, she pulled the wet clay from the wheel and set it aside. Her concentration as ruined as her project, she washed her hands and cleaned the workstation.
To distract herself from growing ire and resentment, she headed for the courtyard to join Crow in a bout of joyful, childish play.
Ursula spent the next day at her shop. Gil lurked in a corner, ensuring no one—customer or fellow merchant—dared offer her insult. Business that day was brisk, so she managed to ignore him while putting on a smile and offering compliments to her customers’ good taste. She continued to ignore Gil during lunch which she ate in the back room with Addilli who happily chattered about her offspring and the upcoming festival.
“Gallik and Sifgul are actually excited about the festival,” Addilli confided with a twinkle in her eye. “Though they won’t admit it, you know. They’re far too preoccupied with the prospect of losing face by admitting your idea is wonderful.”
Ursula grinned and finished her sandwich. She wiped her fingers on a cloth napkin and said, “I think the children will enjoy the trick-or-treating most. I know I always did when I was a kid.”
Addilli tilted her head to one side. “Tell me about this trick-or-treating custom. It sounds terribly dangerous.”
Ursula laughed, then sighed at the memory. “I grew up in a middle class suburb. I know that doesn’t mean anything to you. Anyway, we knew our neighbors and socialized with them. It was exciting to dress in costumes and trek from house to house to collect candy. Because we knew our neighbors, we weren’t afraid. Everyone’s mom, dad, or grandparent kept their collective eye on us to make sure no one got lost or ran into any trouble.”
“Were you not escorted by your fathers?”
“There were a few adults escorting kids, but for the most part, we kids roamed at will and stuck to our familiar neighborhoods.” At Addilli’s shocked expression, Ursula felt the need to explain. “Families are different where I come from, Addilli. Some households had both a mother and a father. Many had only mothers, and a few just fathers. I even knew a couple of kids who were being raised by their grandparents because their dad wasn’t in the picture and their mother had abandoned them to pursue her own dreams.”
