Chapter six
Agate turned her face into Jez’s chest, sorrow and grief overwhelming, tightening her chest and burning up her throat, her eyes mercifully dry.
This was too cruel.
“Gatie?” Jez wrapped his arms around her, leaning down to press his cheek against hers. “What’s wrong?”
She blinked her still dry eyes, looking up at him. “I… he might think this was a favour, but…” The tightness in her chest turned to swarming bitterness. “This is agony, Jez. I didn’t need the reminder… this illusion of home…”
“You think… Barnaby?” Jez stiffened and pulled back, looking over her head at the approaching figure of the captain. “Is this true?”
The eyepatch made it difficult to discern the captain’s expression, but the amazement and understanding were perfectly readable as he too observed the realm they approached. Jez’s arms momentarily tightened around her before releasing and stepping back.
“Milady, I would never be so crass.” Barnaby’s voice cut through the ringing in her ears, she looked up at his hand that was reaching for hers, tentatively reaching out to take it.
“It’s not one of your illusions then?” Tears came then, flooding her eyes and escaping to run down her cheeks. The imprint in the atmosphere was undeniable, dark magic and divine power.
Barnaby took her hand and led her to the lowering gangplank, overlooking the gathering crowd of warlocks. On Asurian soil. Jez crowded her back, the heat emanating from him a comfort to her shock-chilled body.
“How?” She watched as Amara and Cassius disembarked from the ship, a sly smile gracing the face of her Sarratum as she stepped foot on shore, impatiently beckoning for the rest to follow.
“Your audience awaits, Lady Agate.” Barnaby let go of her hand and pressed at her back, nudging her forward. Her feet refused. She sent a panicked look to Jez, who got the hint and picked up her hand, falling into step beside her, supporting her as together they descended.
Her feet were on Asurian soil.
Panic and memories warred. The last time she’d felt the magic of her homeland, the familiarity of this same ground, it had been crumbling beneath her. The shrieks and wails of the damned souls rushing for the portal… the taste of death still lingering on the back of her tongue…
“We’re not there.” Jez tugged on her hand, then carefully placed a palm to her cheek, tilting her face up to his so she could meet the intensity in her gaze. “Gatie…”
“I… I know that. I’m good. Here. I’m here, with you. Now.”
He pulled her in for a hug, brushing a kiss against her forehead. A simple gesture powerful enough to calm her mind while heating her blood. In a life marked by misery and magic, her angel was the greatest of miracles.
“You guys were taking forever.” A familiar child’s voice rang out, capturing her attention. Cora herself stalked forward, wearing the robes of an oracle, her hair braided and twisted into bejewelled twin buns atop her head, her small fists planted on her hips. “My mum and the den-mother’s been waiting all day and they told me I have to be patient, but I’m tired of being patient.”
Agate giggled at her impudence, the girl was growing more powerful with each passing day.
“Welcome home.”
She met Amara’s eyes, reading the smug gloating and calm satisfaction both. Not an illusion, but magic—the most powerful kind.
“How?”
Amara smiled, turning her radiant expression up to Cassisus.
“We had some leftover power expulsion, and well,” Cassius said with a shrug. “Mara wanted this.”
The thought of it boggled the mind. Just had a bit extra lying around, so they’d created a universe… she snickered at the thought. The absurdity of how casually powerful her Sarrae were. She’d known, logically, that Cassius had ascended into god-hood, but had never given any thought to the practicality of it. Of either the title itself, or just how powerful Amara made him.
How fortunate the Realms were that the only aspiration Cassius had was in seeing Amara happy.
“You seem to have mixed feelings about Asurim being restored?” Amara leaned in, keeping her observation between their little group.
“No, well, yes — maybe? It’s been an emotional day,” Agate sniffled and swiped away the tears under her eyes with her wrists. “And I really wasn’t expecting…” she motioned around them, “any of this. I was supposed to get married in Anu-Hia, with a small but pleasant ceremony – and now…”
“Anu-Hia burned up,” Cora cut in. “streets were on fire, blood ran to the rivers, the dead would’ve been your only witnesses.” The little oracle spoke as if having no doubt of her prediction. And once again, she’d been correct.
She kept her eyes steady on Amara, who titled her head toward the girl. Not many managed to ingrace themselves with her Sarrae, but Cora had done so effortlessly.
“We had to make alternate arrangements once Cora informed Meph of what was to happen.”
“Hold on. Meph knew?” Jez glowered, looking around.
“Not important.” Cass punched him lightly on the shoulder.
“Come now. Your day awaits.” Amara held out her hand towards an outgrouping of warlocks decked out in ceremonial robes. And urged them forward.
Obeying by instinct, Agate stepped towards them and they all bowed as one – to her. Her stride didn’t falter–thankfully–but her breath did. Never more than a guttersnipe turned lady’s maid, albeit the Sarratum’s, she wasn’t used to adulation in any form. She was behind the scenes, the one who helped their Sarratum shine, never the focus.
A gentle nudge brought her back to the now, with Jez beside her, proud and magnificent, as the group of warlocks moved to surround them. Before she realised their intent, jars of gold and red were dipped in fine brushes, painting new sigils upon bare skin, runes promising a long and fruitful union, her mind filling with the echo of their singing a hymn of blessing. Startled as she was, she remained still, sneaking looks at her angel who was looking decidedly uncomfortable – but enduring it for her.
It hit her then, all at once, her breath sucking in sharply. She’d wholly given up.
“We’re getting married today.”
Jez laughed softly, trying not to disturb the severity of the moment. “That was the plan, Gatie.”
Chapter Seven
Agate followed Amara and Cora in a daze, trying to take in all the sights surrounding them, none really processing. The similarities were there, it all felt the same, but the land was so barren. No cities in the distance, no lightning or green fire to disturbed the purple skyline. A peaceful new realm birthed by the memory of its predecessor. It was too much to believe.
Together, they crossed an embankment smooth blue sea glass, shining brilliantly beneath her feet. Beyond stood a jungle of green foliage, with only one visible structure.
“The temple.” So many years, so many memories.
A massive tower carved from Asurian blackstone rose up like a gothic pillar, decorated with far more gold inlay than was ever displayed on any of the previous nine temples. The halls were abandoned, yet the sound of song echoed everywhere. Green fire burned in sconces along the dark walls, shadows dancing around her as they walked. Everything shone with newness, the overwhelming smoke of purifying incense lacking the cloying sweetness of spilled blood.
Indeed this was no fae illusion, this was real–this was happening. And this was her wedding day.
“Cassius, see to the groom. We’ll meet you at the altar.”
“No talking her out of this Mara, you promised.”
It was silent for a moment. Then a sigh.
“Oh very well.”
Too nervous to laugh at the antics, she faltered in the doorway of the antechamber Amara led her through, where another small crowd gathered. One in particular caught her attention.
“Well there you are girl!”
Relief flooded her seeing her den-mother alive and in her usual frantic state, fussing around a sparkling gossamer dream of a gown. Her body froze, except for her fingers stretching out, aching to touch something so beautiful.
“Come on now goose, we gotta get this dress on you.” Her den-mother grabbed her arm, yanking her towards the screened off portion of the room. “Sit.”
“I’m glad… sorry about Anu-Hia…” she tried to form words from her scattered thoughts, but there were far too many to focus on. Her den-mother had lost her home, and she knew that loss.
“Tsk, good riddance. The rot gets purged and we’ll rebuild on the remains.”
“Bury the bodies outside the city walls.” Amara mumbled quietly while easing herself, with some difficulty, into the chair prepared for her.
“It shall be done as you command, your majesty.”
This Apocalypse had been filled with zombies, ghouls and Draugr. Violent creations of flesh and spirit who consumed all living things. Despite the room feeling warm, Agate shuddered at the memory.
“Worry not about these things now goose, but think about your wedding. Dress now, so we can see if it’s got to be taken in anywhere.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Agate took a deep breath and pulled the yards of silken gauze over her head, arms searching for the holes. It took a few moments of tugging and pleating the skirt before it lay flat, and when she turned to see her reflection all thoughts ceased, her brain freezing on the image.
“It’s me.”
With a trained eye immediately she discerned its precious dye, a purple derived from dragon's blood. The colour of royalty. Thousands of crystals sparkled in the firelight, the fabric studded and dusted with them, the light silk gossamer heavy with the weight. They shimmered like falling stars wherever light touched the fabric.
“Diamonds?”
The gown, once laced at the back, fit like it was made for her.
“I wasn’t using them.” Amara shrugged as she popped a grape in her mouth, her sharp gaze inspecting every fold and sway of the fabric before finally nodding her approval.
“You made me a dress.” tears burned at her eyes again, the thoughtfulness of the gesture crowding her already over-full heart.
“No. I had one commissioned.” Amara avoided her gaze, picking at the array of snacks set out on the tea table. “Trust me with a needle, you’d be getting married naked, and your groom would be full of tiny holes.”
“I–”
“You have to stop with the tears.” Amara cut her off. “You’re more of a watering pot than I am these days.”
Laughter bubbled out at the thought of her stoic Sarratum joining her in a weep-fest. Pregnancy was an odd state of being.
“I’m not crying.” She sniffled, laughing again at the disbelieving look on Amara’s face when she finally made eye contact. Agate took her Sarratum’s hands in hers, afraid that if she didn’t, she’d be assaulted with another handkerchief.
“Honest. I’m just…so happy. Today started out so awful, and it’s turning out so good. I’m getting married.”
“Indeed.” Amara flatly stated.
“I’d given up hope.”
“If you wanna do this today still, we needs t’get moving.” With a final tug, den-mother finished adjusting her gown and shoved her into a vanity seat, waving a hairbrush around.
When all seemed happy with the result, a veil was draped over her red curls. From beneath the cobweb like fabric, Agate caught her own green eyes staring back at her in the mirror, large and bright with excitement.
*
Jez watched Agate wander off with Amara, looking around with an expression of wonderment. A sense of ease washed over him, for the first time today he felt like he could relax, that things might actually go their way.
“Let’s go get you dressed.” Cass stood beside him, watching them walk into the newly constructed temple. “They’ll likely be a while.”
“Who’s the temple for?”
Cass flashed a grin as he turned back to the ship. “Bel. I suppose he’s due some worship.”
“And you’ve allowed this?” Jez grinned back.
“He did return their magic. And I have no need for more power.”
This was true. And there would be much work ahead once word got out that Cassius had grown powerful enough to not only destroy, but create and sustain an entire universe. Other pantheons would grow envious of Cassius and Amara, others would fear them. It spelled trouble.
“Agate’s worth it?” Cassius asked, well enough acquainted with his heart to know what he was thinking.
“Yes, she is.” Consequences be damned. They walked up the gangplank, side by side in comforting silence. It had been too long.
“Is all this really necessary?”
“Yes.” Soleil, the royal majordomo offered no mercy.
His suit was a formal monstrosity of layers, not the Asurian silks his king had been married in, but an expensive and made to fit tux that looked like something out of Mephistopheles’s wardrobe. Dress shirt, vest and tie, double breasted jacket and fitted dress pants. He spared a thought to just keeping the warlock silks on, but he didn’t have the luxury of turning his nose up at tradition, like a being of Cassius’s standing.
Soleil dressed him with efficiency as Cass sat and sipped a glass of whiskey, nosing through papers scattered over the table. He left the tie hanging around his neck, neatened his hair and headed for the door.
“Come look over the contract with me.” Meph’s voice called over his shoulder to Cass, who reluctantly got up from the chair, downed his drink and followed.
The devil and the captain sat side by side behind the desk, heads together as they read through a roll of parchment, which Jez assumed was his wedding contract–it should be a weighty thing, with his standing in the Hells and Agate’s new position to outline. Today, both would solidify their places within the royal ranks of the Infernal Hells.
“Be sure to read through this carefully,” Meph arched a brow, looking unruffled as ever. “Once you’ve signed it’s as binding as a pact.”
“Yeah. I suppose I should make sure there aren’t any more disasters lying in wait.” Gatie didn’t need any other ill-omens or surprises today, and if it was the least he could do, he’d ensure that everything went smoothly from here on.
He moved around to their side of the desk, scanning the lengthy contract over Barnaby’s shoulder, who gave him an impenetrable look then glowered.
“I’ll thank you to stay on that side of my desk.”
Jez snorted before he could stop himself, walking back around to stand across from them, meeting Meph’s mischievous gaze.
“I’d like to offer my services as officiant–” Meph started speaking, Jez’s snarl cutting him short.
“No thank you.” Not after everything else.
“As her first lover, and patron–”
“No.” Jez glared.
Barnaby cleared his throat. “We travelled here by my ship, as Captain, I claim the honour to act as officiant.”
With that, his swiftly rising temper fizzled, and gave Barnaby a quick nod. “That would be preferable.”
He shot Meph a glare, just to be sure. The devil had been her first, but he would be her always.
“I’d offer, but that sounds dreadfully boring.” Cass stepped directly in front of him, tying his tie, then straightening his lapels. “Relax.” His long fingers ran through Jez’s hair, loosening the knot in his chest.
“I won’t relax until the contract’s signed.” With a sigh, he leaned into Cass, who lightly embraced him, his presence alone calming the riotous tangle of emotions. Helping him focus on what was important. Agate.
“Sit.” Meph, sounding serious for once, gestured to the chair across the desk from him and Barnaby. “There are some important clauses you need to be aware of, in case there are addendums you wish to make.”
Cass pulled up another chair, intent and focused, scanning through the document with him.
“No, after today, Agate’s title won’t be dependent on her marriage.” Cass tapped the parchment. “She’ll have her own holdings.”
Shock kept Jez silent, as Cass scribbled out the change in the margins.
“And this?” Cass looked over at him, “I’m not sure my herald would appreciate his wife having harem attendants assigned to her.”
“Fuck that.” Jez straightened. “What? Why is that even a consideration.”
“It does allow for your own attendants to see to your needs. As a royal, you both are granted access, and standard practice allows for indiscretions – so the marriage won’t be dissolvable in the case of extra-marital relations.” Meph watched him carefully.
“Extra what now? Fuck that. Just take that right out. There’ll be no indiscretions.” Jez grabbed the pen from Cass and scratched out the offending clause.
“As you say.” Meph looked between him and Cass, one brow raised. “Easily fixed. Anything else?”
With a lot more focus, he finished reading through the contract, Cass shockingly interjecting on Gatie’s behalf over a few minor wordings, seeing to her best interest over nitpicky laws Jez was unaware of.
It took far longer than Jez anticipated, surely enough time for Agate to get all dolled up three times over. He stood, stretching, running his hand over the slight wrinkles in his clothes.
“I think we’re done?” He looked over to Meph and the Captain who were both watching intently.
He cast one last look at the scroll that would bind them together for eternity and rather than nervous, he was impatient. Already missing the weight of her body in his embrace, the warmth of her sweet smelling skin against his.
“Then we better get me married already.”
Chapter eight
Those lacking nerves took hold the moment Jez took his place before the obsidian altar, where twin athames with wickedly sharp blades and an empty cup stood as the only decorations. Behind the altar, a massive fire of green flickered, its bright flames and shadows dancing with the assembled crowd within the black hall. The air was full of heady incense and sacred song, making him lightheaded.
He made every effort to look at ease and composed, yet he couldn’t fool Cassius, who’d taken to stand by his side, rather than claim the lavish throne prepared for him.
“Calm down, I doubt she’s run off.” He teased.
“There’s no way off this Realm without my ship.” Barnaby chimed in happily.
By the smiles they exchanged, It was obvious they all took great pleasure in his state. He wanted his Gatie to have the wedding she deserved, with all the pomp and circumstance she was due, but what he wouldn’t give for it all to be done with and have her in his arms. Naked, preferably.
The song changed pitch suddenly, no longer a harmonious call to Hells for its blessing, but a joyous outcry of ululation that bounced off the stone walls and cleared his mind like a bell. And the reason for their jubilance he found walking amongst them in his direction. Gold coins and flower petals rained down where she walked, her bare feet leaving footprints of gold upon the ground.
No shoes.
His breath caught, and the only thing stopping him from running to her in that moment was Cassius’s hand resting on his shoulder.
“Sweet heavens.”
Even veiled, his Gatie could challenge the celestial goddesses with her beauty, which only dimmed when compared to the radiance of her soul. To Jez, Agate was like the dawn, shining brightly with the promise of a new day. Only a few steps remained between them when he could no longer hold back, his own feet moving before his mind could intervene, rushing down the altar to collect his bride.
“Jez, what are you… oh!”
Not daring to wait a moment longer lest omens and mayhem caught up to them, he lifted her in his arms and walked the final steps towards the altar.
“Angel, you have to put me down.” There was no sadness in her voice, no tears she held back, instead her giggles were like bells, a sound that titillated and made him feel funny things in his belly.
“I don’t have to...” Surely, there were no such rules. He quickly complied however when casting a glance in Cassius’s direction, who was now seated upon the throne, his face buried in the curve of Amara’s neck. And she was glowering- at him. Without another word, he lowered his bride to the floor.
“Your Queen still terrifies me.” He whispered, eliciting another bubble of laughter from her.
“She wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He had little experience with weddings, having witnessed only one. The infernal weddings were short in the ways of ceremony and long in small print. Contracts and exchange of power being the only matters of relevance in unholy unions. As for the heavens, angels didn’t believe in marriage, their devotion reserved for the one god only. But he had fallen, and was free to choose — and he chose her. Yesterday, today and forever.
“Angel, your palm…” He extended to her without hesitation, even as Agate accepted one of the razor edged athames Barnaby handed her. The cut was shallow, quick, and painless, slashing a line across his palm which quickly pooled with crimson. Blood was life to warlocks, a conduit to power. Agate was a warlock, a being of dark magics and bloodspill. And if she had a need for his blood, he would freely give it. But what she asked of him next had his stomach churn.
“Is mine not enough?” He eyed the athame Barnaby handed him, and Agate’s outstretched palm with a sinking feeling. The idea of cutting her body was a sin he could not bring himself to commit.
“Dark gods…” with a soft sigh belied by a smile, Agate turned the blade she’d used on him against her palm, and sliced an identical cut. Anger filled him at the sight of her blood, his hand shaking as he took the blade from her fingers, tossing it aside. There were gasps heard amongst the crowd, but none were foolish enough to dare lay claim on it.
Her blood stained his palm. If treated, it would heal in an hour or so. His blood coated her hands, dying them both red. Through the filmy veil, eyes of vivid green caught, and held his gaze.
“I, Agate, daughter of Asurim stand before the throne of hell, and declare to the gods old and new...” her words sounded calm, yet he knew in that moment her heart was beating as loudly as his. “That from this day forward, my destiny shall be tethered to yours, Jez’Piel. I claim you as mine. Mine to protect, mine to cherish, and to avenge.”
Damn it. They’d not discussed their vows. A shameful oversight on his part, but one that would have made little difference. Locked in this moment, there was no vow he would not offer to have her.
“I, Jez’Piel, Lord herald of the Nine Hells stand before my king and queen, and declare to gods old and new, that I love you, Agate.” Love was a terrifying force, a power she held over him completely. And one he trusted her with. “I vow to cherish you above all others. I vow to be worthy of you, and never betray your trust. I vow to love you, fiercely, and frequently.”
Blood coated fingers knitted with his own, her hands trembling in his. He speculated that if he were to lift her veil, he’d find her blushing bright red.
“I proclaim that you are mine, Agate. Mine to protect, mine to adore, and mine to avenge.”
“In the cup, if you please.” With a nudge, Barbaby pressed a gilded bowl beneath their entwined hands, catching the spilling blood. Ink for their contract.
Vows were not easily broken, infernal contracts even less so. He cast a glance towards his king, and was grateful to Cassius. Who, in his own way, had protected Agate today.
“That should do it.” The cup was removed only a few moments later, and in that time upon the empty altar a scroll appeared, wax sealed with his own signet. Mephistopheles had vowed to keep it safe and stored, supposedly as a wedding present. Twin quills were offered to them, the pristine swan feathers sharpened into a pen, then dipped in their mixed blood.
“Cassius, Meph and the Captain went over the print with me. I believe there is nothing in there that could bring harm to you.”
She would become the grand duchess, a regent of the infernal court. In power, wealth and support, she would never be lacking.
"I trust you.” When she looked up, smiling, and his heavy beating heart gave a stutter.
My wife.
He was a part of her now, and she of him. “Also, Levistus and Amara tore through the terms like sharks in bloodied water.”
“Of course they did.” While he’d likely never admit to being grateful to them, he was. From his pocket he pulled a piece of neatly pressed cloth, and easing her bleeding hand in his, he pressed the square against the shallow wound. He didn’t want to let go of these hands, but forced himself to press pen against paper. Another tether to her. His pen barely lifted when her name appeared besides his.
**
She’d done it, she’d married her angel.
Excimented rolled like thunder through the temple the moment her blood touched parchment, making the contract binding. Cries of jubilation and the beat of celebratory drums drowning out any words spoken. The veil that tinted her world purple was lifted suddenly, her breath catching the same moment Jez’s lips caught hers, the kiss conveying everything they could not say. Lips demanding, tongues hungry. She felt him everywhere, in the chaotic beating of joined hearts, in the heat of breath they shared, in the gentle caress of fingers as he cupped the back of her neck. This formidable being loved her every bit as much she loved him. And in this love she revelled. In his burning gaze, she was beautiful and strong.
Shocked, she clung to him when suddenly her feet no longer touched the cold floor, his embrace the only thing keeping her from plummeting down the altar steps.
“Easy, birbirru-shi.” Roughly whispered words by her ear sent a surge of heat to warm her blood. My radiant light, that’s what he’d called her in her mother tongue.
“Is that how you see me?”
Her throat felt dry, her voice thick as he held her closer, his powerful steps unfaltering as she was carried away, the tears she refused to shed wetting her lashes.
“Agate, you are the sun to which I cannot help but fly. I burn for you.”
As if to testify to this, the furled wings of inky black at his back quivered. In reply, the same heart which before had fluttered within her chest was now pounding against her ribs, as if trying to break free and fly with him.
“Place your arms around my neck.”
As tall and broad as he was, this was easier said than done. But she obeyed without question. Within Jez’s hold she was shielded from the sudden crush of bodies surrounding them, his touch easing her when she felt the pull of countless fingers clutching at her skirt. Voices echoed from all around, offering Asurian prayers meant to bestow blessings, and hexes to divert sorrows — ancient hymns sung to the beat of triumphant drums as they cast their spells.
“Ba’al must be pleased.”
The Sumerian god of Magics had adopted the damned warlocks of Asurim, and under his guardianship, her people thrived. The imprint of magic so profound even she, a warlock of mediocre talents could easily sense it permeating the air as they stepped outside.
“Oh.”
A golden horizon lay ahead, a sea of deep violet stretching beyond, at distance their ship lay anchored to a beach of shimmering seaglass, crowned by a forest of green where the black temple stood. As they walked, her attention was everywhere and nowhere all the same, Jez’s hand held her tightly as she followed where he led. Senses drawn to the vibrant colours of the evening sky, and the music drifting upon the gentle breeze.
“This must be what Asurim was like before the great corruption.”
Jez simply nodded. But those eyes of celestial blue reflected the same quiet hope which moved through her. A hope that the apocalypse had not only delivered destruction to Asurim, but also rebirth. Hope that her sister’s dream still lived on.
The scent of temple incense soon began to fade, replaced by the pungent scent of unfamiliar flora. Jez’s hand held hers tightly, together following where their exuberant wedding party led.
Jubilant dancers surrounded them, the momentousness of the occasion–both of her marriage and the first official celebration on the new Asurian soil–stirring up a passionate frenzy. Opium haze hung low to the ground, thick enough that the clouds were stirred up by fast moving couples and wildly stomping feet. Emotions too overwhelming to contain escaped from her chest in riotous laughter as Jez pulled her into a spin to join the dance.
As the night wore on, dancing devolved into clothing being discarded in an ever-hastening pace.
“Fucking Cass…” Jez snorted as he eyed what was quickly turning into an orgy, Agate snickering along with him, her own gaze searching out her sarrae.
“Ah…” a small wave of sadness crested over her good cheer. “They left?”
Jez stilled with her still wrapped in his arms, scanning the crowd with a more serious intent. “Looks like.”
With a soft sigh, she leaned into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck and swaying along with the drumbeat.
They wandered down to the beach, where pillars of balefire were lit, and lavishly decorated tents stood lined along the brilliant shore. She sat under the biggest one, prettily propped upon a pile of pillows, still clinging to Jez’s side. Hot lips moved up the curve of her neck, the caress easing the stiffness from her shoulders. Her body is going slack against his as his mouth worked its own kind of magic.
“Gatie cat?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you okay?”
“I'm a little overwhelmed, perhaps.”
A perfectly fine excuse, given the day’s events, and one her angel answered with a kiss so tender, it threatened to steal what little was left of her good senses.
“Tell me you’re happy.”
It was both a demand and a plea. Yet, no matter how she answered, words would fail to properly convey her happiness and love for him. Of course there was another way. Her way.
She stood, looking over her shoulder to gauge their privacy–every one seemed preoccupied, so she unlaced her gown, awkwardly loosening the ties until she could slide out of it, watching the confusion on her husband’s face brighten with comprehension with a smug sense of achievement. Clenching her shift in her hands, she rucked it up and moved deeper into the tent while Jez leaned back on an elbow, eyes gleaming.
She closed her eyes, feeling the beat of the drums, the intoxicating flow of magic thrumming through her, and moved. A twitch of the hips, swaying them in a sinuous movement, worshipful and exuberant at once. Her hands raised in the air, hips rolling, she tucked her thumbs under the thin shoulder straps and eased her shift down, dancing out of it as she watched the hungry look on Jez’s face glaze over with unheeded lust.
Her thin panties were the last scrap of clothing covering her, her dance slowing into a more sensual one of seduction, her eyes meeting Jez’s with hunger to match his own.
With a soft growl, he lunged, lifting her by the ass and pulling her onto his lap, kissing her fiercely…teeth smashing against her lip, vibrating growls rumbling against her chest… his fingers digging into her ass cheeks hard enough to bruise.
“So fuckin sexy… my wife…” he whispered with reverence before attacking her mouth again. He paused, his lips against hers. “You could just say you’re happy, but I like the charades too.”
She yanked his hair back, forcing him to look up at her. “Less with the talking, angel face.”
He ducked his head out of her grip and bent to take a nipple into his mouth, sucking sharply, pressing kisses along her breast in a trail to the other.
“I’m happy too.” he looked up at her, the blue of his eyes a thin shine from beneath his lashes.
As long as they had each other, they could always grasp this–moments of bliss to share and memories to be made.
Comments