She rose from his lap with the heavy grace of late pregnancy, steadying herself on the furniture, and unlaced her kirtle, letting the dress fall to the floor. Her shift beneath was cream-colored linen, thin enough that the lamp silhouetted the curve of her belly and the heaviness of her breasts through the fabric. She stood before him and pulled the shift over her head.
He’d seen her body many times before, usually glimpses as she dressed while he was frozen in daysleep. But this was different. This was generous. Open. He soaked it up, marveling at her beauty and how it had changed.
Her skin gleamed in the lamplight. Fresh pink lines mapped the underside of her belly, where her skin had stretched too quickly to accommodate the growing hatchling. Her breasts were full, pink nipples darkened. Her hips had widened, her thighs thickened, her body reshaping itself around his child.
Itwashis child. Of all the lies, that was the one he believed the most.
“May I?” he asked, reaching out hesitantly. She grasped his hand and put it on her belly, leaving her hand atop his. Her skin was taut and firm, so soft and smooth. Careful of his claws, he slid his hands up to cup her breasts, watching her face all the while to make sure she welcomed it.
When he thumbed her peaked nipples, her lips parted, and her head tipped back. “No one…no one has touched me like this before. I didn’t know this is what it felt like,” she whispered to the ceiling. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you before. I thought it would be like before.”
Of course, she had likely been a virgin before she was treated so badly. He rose to embrace her, wishing he could undo it. With his lips pressed to the top of her head, he sighed, heart heavy. “What you experienced—what youendured—that wasnot lovemaking or evenmatingin the most basic sense. It was something else. It was closer to war.”
“Not like you experienced.”
“Much like I did,” he disagreed. “It broke me to pieces, too. Your scars may be less obvious than mine, but they’re real, and there’s no need to apologize for them. You did not put them there.”
“Th-thank you,” she stuttered, and for once he did not correct her. She took his hand and bravely led him to the bed, where she showed him the basket stowed beneath, the bone phallus inside wrapped in a cloth.
“I carried it over myself so the maids wouldn’t touch it,” she confided as she crawled into bed with it.
“Clever wife,” he murmured. “Tell me what you’d like me to do.”
She lay back on cushions and he quickly took his place beside her. The lamplight pooled in the hollows of her throat and her collarbones and dripped down the rest of her, glazing her body like honey. “Just talk to me at first,” she said, placing the phallus between her legs, nudging it into her folds. Her arousal was evident, beading on the tuft of pale fur she had there. “I like the sound of your voice.”
She pushed the tip of it inside her, and he could not tear his eyes away from the sight of her stretched open and speared on a gargoyle cock.
Wield it as if it were your own.Well, then.
“There,” he said in a low voice, as her breath caught. “That’s the angle. I can see it on your face. Stay there. Don’t rush.”
She obeyed, slowing, and the flush crept from her chest up the line of her throat. He watched it travel from there to her cheeks and temples.
“You’re blushing everywhere.” His voice had roughened, but he hoped she still liked the sound. “You’re as pink as a petal. Iwant you to keep your hand exactly where it is and let me look at you a moment longer.”
Her fingers tightened on the polished bone, and her thighs shook.
“Yes. Like that. I love to see you take your pleasure.” A purr started under his words. “You’re so brave. You’ve always been brave, even when you were afraid of me.” He stopped, found the thread again. “Take a little more now. Slowly. There’s no one in the world but us, and I have all night to admire you.”
She made a sound, small and broken-open.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Tell me when you’re close. I want to hear it. I want to watch your face when you reach your peak.”
She quivered and arched into the bone, and her soft, involuntary exhalation meant she’d surrendered to her pleasure. His chest ached with a strange warmth, like an echo of what she was feeling. Her free hand grasped for his, their fingers twisting together until her body stopped shaking.
“Rikard. I’d like to see you.”
“I’m right here.”
“No.” She opened her eyes, revealing the begging depths of her blown pupils. He could see his reflection in them. “I want to see your body the way you’re seeing mine.” She bit her lip before blurting, “Take off your breeches. Please?”
The warm feeling that had suffused him vanished in an instant, like a candle blown out.
“There is nothing to see,” he said flatly.
“That isn’t true.”
“Hannalinde. My body isn’t like yours. It’s…what it is. What it has to be. But it’s far from ideal.” He blew out a breath, frustrated. “What I’m saying is that I have nothing to offer you! Nothing pretty to look at, nothing even functional. I wish I did, but I don’t.”
