A Break in the Sunlight

14. Of Bees and Honey

NOTE: Adult themes here. Implied sex and stuff.

She had never had a lover like Sain before.

Okay, if the truth were told, she'd never really had a lover at all. Not in the strictest sense. She'd been to bed with plenty of men, first for the experience, then for the creds–but she'd never let one get to her the way Sain did.

Normally, when men veered from the look, squeeze and screw scenario, it made her skittish. She really preferred it when they skipped the prelims and just got on with it. Sometimes they got her off, too, later and that was all right... but she didn't need the hassle of the small stuff. It was more comfortable for her when it was fast and hot and they left afterward.

But Sain was different. When he came near her she felt her stomach drop. Her breathing got funny. He would kiss her slowly, linger over her, whisper to her in his strange tongue. He resisted Jaren's attempts to hurry him along, and she discovered the heady feelings of anticipation and satisfaction. He seemed to slake some kind of hunger in her. Something she hadn't touched on much, before.

Sex had never been easy for her, but with Sain she found herself relaxing into it tentatively. He would sleep all night in her bed, holding her to him. He made her feel... calm. And safe, somehow. She could almost let down her guard. Almost.

Because there were times when the depth of those emotions set her on edge. Then she found herself testing him, challenging him, going too far. If she thought he was angry with her, she got jittery, like a kid in trouble, but she could not stop the words from coming. She knew he thought she was childish. She could see in his eyes that he blamed the outbursts on her youth, though he himself could not have been more than twenty-five. Yet still she pushed. She would snap at him, lash out at him, constantly pushing or pulling in some way, powerless to stop the emotional tug of war.

But Sain would not fall prey to her traps. He knew her too well. He would inform her politely that when she was calm she could find him in the garden or in his study, and would leave her alone until her need drove her to find him again. When she did go to him, chastened and tense, he would take her into his arms again, holding her without a word of rebuke, and the sullen feelings would slip away.

It had been four weeks since he had first made love to her, the night he had returned from his trip. At night he would come to her room. She would wait for the sound of his footsteps in the hallway, after the rest of the household had retired, and meet him at the door.

They spent their days walking the plantation, or playing chess by the marble pool. Jaren was feeling stronger all the time, now. Her head ached less, and hardly at all when she was with Sain, unless she was fighting him on something, when it would frequently flare up until she had to take a painkiller and lie down.

Sometimes he asked her questions, too, but he never forced them. When he felt her resist him, in mind or body, he would generally step away, give her air.

"Who was Magdalene?" was the first question. Asked that first night, when they lay entwined together in the expansive darkness of her room. Her head lay on his shoulder, and his free hand gently traced the contours of her jaw, neck, breast, stomach.

"Najwa? Who was Magdalene?" he had murmured.

Her breathing halted briefly, and her stomach tensed.

"Where did you hear that name?" she asked.

"It came up in the Firedown interviews," he replied sleepily. "And on your log. Isn't it a religious term?"

How much had he learned about her past, she had wondered. And how willing was she to test his feelings for her? Was his kindness to her based on some belief that she was a wayward virginal princess of Arden, simply needing direction back to the fold? If he didn't know what she'd done, and he found out... would he reject her? Screw that.

"Magdalene was a Biblical whore," she said. "It was the name I used when men screwed me for money."

He shifted himself, so he was looking down into her eyes. The moonlight illuminated his cheek and reflected silver in the tousled dark hair. His brows were narrowed slightly, questioning.

"Is that for my benefit?"

"What?"

"The way you are speaking."

"If you can't handle the answer to the question, don't ask it."

"It was only a question. I keep no illusions between us, Najwa."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she challenged him, rising on her elbow and pressing a hand against his chest, holding him away from her. Fear thrilled faintly in her veins. "What exactly do you know about me? Go on. I want to know what you think you know."

"Is it important for you to have it spoken?" he seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Humour me."

He closed his eyes. "Jaren Christian. You are sixteen years and some months of age. Your mother is the daughter of Arden's former governor. Your father is deceased. You left Arden a year ago, traveling to Nine, Dilossia and Pennel, among others, in the company of a Powian prostitute and juvenile offender named Kaski Ptomeia. You've had some minor drug infractions and a trespassing on information charge that was dropped. You arrived on Firedown three months ago, where you made your money as you just stated."

"-screwing."

His eyes opened. "Yes, screwing, and painting artwork for a local bar. After that it gets a little unclear, but according to a GRC private we talked to, there was a bit of a dust-up with some soldiers. They took you, and probably your friend, up on their maneuver, possibly against your will. Used you-" A muscle in his jaw twitched, slightly, "Used you unforgivably. And you escaped."

"Murdering them in the process. You forgot that."

"Is that how you feel? That you murdered them?"

"Is there any other way to feel?"

She turned her head away from his gaze, cursing the sudden tightness in her chest. She was suddenly sorry she brought it up. Hearing him say it all like that sounded cold and empty. Even Kaski's name sounded like a stranger's. She dug her teeth into her lip savagely. She was not going to cry again. It would solve nothing and just make her look like a child.

Sain had opened his mouth to speak, but paused. Instead he took her hand, lacing his fingers in hers and leaned down to softly kiss her mouth. In time there had been no room for anything but touch and possession and his voice whispering Arcadian words of love in her ear.

All rights reserved. Copyright Jae Darcy 2016.