Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [69]
"No, I know," I murmured.
"They took me to Eisheth's temple today," she mused. "So strange! I lit a candle to her and said the prayer they taught me. Do you think our children will share her gift?”
"I imagine so," I said. "Alais and …Sidonie do. The gifts of Blessed Elua and his Companions run strong in the Great Houses.”
"Like beauty?" Dorelei asked gravely, and I nodded. She plucked an errant flower petal from my hair. "You know, you frighten me a little. Here, it seems even beauty can be a weapon.”
"I won't hurt you," I said. "I promise.”
Her gaze above the dots of blue woad was dark and deep, and I wondered what she saw with it. They dreamed true dreams, the daughters of Necthana's line. But Dorelei only shook her head, her hair black and shining beneath the wreath of wilting stephanotis flowers that adorned it, held in place by pearl-headed pins. "I'm not ignorant, if that's what you're thinking. I've read your …sacred texts." Her flush returned. "I do read, you know. But when you ask me what pleases me, the truth is, I do not know.”
I reached up to undo the pins, lifting the wreath from her head. "Then let us find out, shall we?”
"I would like that," Dorelei whispered.
I made love to her, slowly and gently. Kindly. I kissed her until her body softened, trusting, and she returned my kisses with ardor. I removed her clothing piece by piece, tasting her brown skin. I removed my own clothing and held myself very still, letting her tentative hands and lips and tongue explore my body. She was eager in some ways, shy in others. Her fingers trembled, wrapped around the shaft of my phallus.
"Will it fit inside me?" she asked in wonderment. "Truly?”
Why do we fit so well together?
"Truly," I assured her. I spread her thighs and performed the languisement on her, concentrating on Naamah's Pearl until Dorelei gasped with surprise and clutched at my hair. And then I eased my way up her body. Patience. I fitted the head of my phallus inside her and heard her gasp again. I thrust my hips forward, slow and gentle.
There was an obstruction.
And then there wasn't.
"Oh, slowly, slowly, please!" she gasped.
I didn't want slowly. I wanted to bury myself in her, deeper and deeper, I wanted to feel her loins rocking against mine. I wanted her arms stretched tight above her head, or at least her fingernails buried in my buttocks, urging me onward. I wanted to feel her heels drumming against the backs of my thighs, I wanted her uttering sweet, urgent obscenities in my ear.
I wanted Sidonie.
Patience, Phèdre had said.
I propped myself on my arms. I made slow, patient love to my wife.
I felt Dorelei give a little shudder inside, her inner walls rippling. She made a noise deep in her throat, half pain, half pleasure. The sound made my testes contract. I hissed through my teeth and spent myself in her. She had lit a candle to Eisheth. I flooded her womb with my seed, wondering whether it would take root, praying in my guilty heart that it didn't.
Afterward, I held her and stroked her hair until she fell asleep, her head pillowed on my shoulder, her breathing slow and even. It should have been a comforting sound.
It wasn't.
Chapter Fourteen
Thus began my new life as the husband of Dorelei mab Breidaia and a Prince of Alba.
I detested it.
Even if it hadn't been for Sidonie, I daresay I wouldn't have been happy, despite Phèdre's wish for me. This marriage was a cage I'd entered voluntarily, but it was a cage nonetheless. I felt trapped; trapped into enforced intimacy, trapped into a life I didn't want. There would have been an element of confinement under any circumstances, but I could have borne it with better grace if I hadn't had a taste of the freedom and happiness I might have enjoyed otherwise. Now I had, and I detested the prison of my new life with a thoroughness that was profound and unrelenting.
Every day, waking to find Dorelei in my bed, I fought against a black tide of bitterness that rose in me. I forced tender words to fall from my lips.