Nallah had been almost cheerful, in a very careful, quiet way, during the dinner. It made Reeve think there was more to her than she was showing—more than just the cowed, submissive girl who was hypersensitive to her husband’s every move. He wanted to see more of that girl—more of the female underneath. But near the end of dinner, she seemed to go cold and quiet. Reeve wondered why.
“Hey…are you all right?” he asked her.
She looked up at him, an expression almost of panic in her golden eyes.
“Of course, my husband,” she blurted. “Let me just clear these dishes and see to the washing while you get comfortable in the living area. Then I will come to make my submission to you. Unless…” She bit her lip. “Unless you want me to make it now?”
Reeve frowned. Submission? What in the Seven Hells was she talking about?
“Uh, no. Later will be fine,” he said, rising from the table. He thought about asking her if she wanted help with the dishes but Nallah already seemed so spooked he decided it was better to give her some alone time to calm down.
Besides, it was one thing to be nicer to her than her husband usually was but if he turned into Mr. Perfect, she was certain to start getting suspicious. Although maybe he could keep using the blow on the head his host had taken as an excuse for his changed personality. At least with Nallah—she seemed willing to take whatever he said at face value—probably because she was too frightened of his host to say anything that might make him mad.
Asshole, Reeve thought at the sleeping male who inhabited the back of the brain he was currently riding in. What did you do to her? Just what the hell did you do to her?
He got settled on a low purple settee in the living area and was just starting to access his host’s memory banks again when Nallah was suddenly there again—and what she was wearing took his breath away.
Gone were the long, shapeless robes she’d worn ever since he’d first seen her. In their place was a top made of some soft, white, see-through material which clearly showed the pale pink points of her nipples. The top cupped the full curves of her breasts and ended just under them. There was a long, smooth flash of pale golden skin where her abdomen was bare and then the same diaphanous material flowed from a band low on her waist to cover her full hips without actually hiding anything.
He could clearly see the plump mound of her pussy and her innocent pink pussy lips under the see-through fabric which fell to her feet and was gathered at the ankles. It formed a kind of puffy, flowing trousers but there was a slit in the crotch, clearly meant for easy access.
Is this what she meant by making her “submission” to me? Holy Goddess! Reeve could feel his shaft go instantly hard in the tight black trousers he wore. He became suddenly aware that it had been a long time—a very long time—since he’d bedded a woman, since he’d held a female, warm and willing, in his arms.
But was Nallah really willing?
He raised his eyes from her lovely, curvy body so temptingly put on display, and looked at her face.
Despite the provocative outfit she had on, Nallah’s eyes were hard and set. It was as though she had nerved herself up to do this—whatever it was—and she wasn’t enjoying it one bit.
“Please, my husband,” she murmured, dropping to her knees before him and putting her head in his lap so he could feel her warm breath against his aching cock. “How would you have me this night? Will you use my mouth…my pussy, or…” She swallowed hard, as though forcing herself to say it. “Or my rosebud? Any or all are at your disposal. I am yours to do with as you wish.”
Under different circumstances, Reeve might have been mightily aroused by such a declaration. Hell, she was offering herself to him on a silver platter. Do whatever you want with me—that’s what she was saying. But her words sounded flat and cold and he could feel her slender body tremble as she waited for his decision.
“Nallah,” he murmured, lifting her chin so she would look up at him.
Reluctantly she raised her head, her eyes wide and uncertain above the veil. Speaking of that veil, he wanted to see her without it—had been wanting that since the moment he first laid eyes on her.
Gently, he tugged at the silky opaque white fabric which hid the lower half of her face.
Nallah gasped and put a hand up to her cheek, as though to stop him but Reeve looked into her eyes.
“You offer me your body,” he murmured. “But I want to see your face. Please, Nallah—take off the veil.”
“As…as my husband wishes.” Her voice trembled and her hand shook but she raised her hand to untie the scrap of fabric that hid her from his gaze.
When it dropped to her lap, Reeve drew in a breath. She certainly hadn’t been hiding her face because she was ugly or deformed in any way. Her small nose was straight and dainty and her full lips were like a ribbon of scarlet in her pale face. With her slanted, golden eyes, he thought she looked a little like the Earth animal called a cat. A lovely, curvy little cat he wished he could stroke.
But how would Nallah feel about that—about being stroked?
Reeve reached out slowly and carefully to cup her cheek. At first she flinched back from him but he murmured,
“Please, Nallah. Not going to hurt you, baby.”
When he reached for her again, she let him touch her, cupping her smooth cheek in one hand as he studied her face in the golden light of the overhead glows.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, stroking her cheekbone with one thumb. “Fucking gorgeous. Does he ever tell you that?”
“Who?” Her eyes suddenly had a wary, frightened look and it seemed to Reeve she would have pulled away from him if she dared. “There is no one who would tell me such things, my husband,” she said quickly, nearly tripping over the words in her haste to get them out. “I swear I have spent every night alone while you were ill. I would never, never betray you. Please believe me!”
She was getting so worked up that Reeve felt really worried. He’d slipped and said “he” meaning his host, Harryx Parokk. But clearly Nallah thought her husband was accusing her of cheating on him with some other man.
Was this something his host did often? Reeve knew it was a favorite trick of an abusive male—always accusing their mate of infidelity even if the poor female hadn’t been within yards of another male.
“It’s all right, I believe you, Nallah,” he said quickly. “What I meant to say was do I ever tell you how beautiful you are? Just remind me—my memory is a little fuzzy still.”
“Oh…” He could see a little of the abject fear leaking out of her eyes although she was still as wary as a caged animal.
“Well?” Reeve prompted gently, although he was pretty certain what the answer was.
“No,” she whispered, her eyes returning to his, only to flit away again. “No, my husband you have never…never said such a thing to me.”
“Never?” Though he had surmised that his host was a son-of-a-bitch it was unbelievable to Reeve that he couldn’t at least recognize the beauty of his own wife. If he had been blessed by the Goddess with such a mate, he would know how to appreciate her—and tell her how he loved and admired her every day.
“Never,” Nallah whispered. “But thank you, my husband. You are…too kind. Now…” She shifted and winced a little, as though with a momentary pain. “How do you wish to use me?”
Reeve frowned. “I don’t want to fucking ‘use’ you like some kind of a sex doll,” he growled.
But his tone was too harsh and it caused Nallah to draw back in fear.
“Gods,” Reeve muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “Forgive me,” he said in a softer voice. “I just…don’t wish to have sex with an unwilling partner.”
“But I’m not unwilling!” Nallah’s golden eyes widened. “Please, my husband—when have I ever denied you?”
“Never, I’m guessing,” Reeve growled. “Probably because you weren’t given the option.”
“Well…no,” Nallah admitted in a small voice. “But it is a wife’s duty to service her husband and submit to him sexually each night. That is the way of things.”
The way of things, huh? Reeve felt his gut churn with revulsion. This poor little female had probably been raped every night of her married life and she thought it was just the way things were supposed to be. No wonder Commander Sylvan and the rest of the Kindred High Council didn’t want the Hascions spreading beyond their own benighted planet. If this was the way their society treated their females, they deserved to be wiped out altogether!
“I’m not going to ‘use’ you tonight,” he told Nallah, the words sticking in his throat. “But I do want to look at you—specifically your knees, sweetheart.” The little wince of pain she’d made earlier hadn’t escaped him and he remembered that he’d promised himself to see to her wounded knees after they got back to the domicile.
“My…knees?” She looked at him uncertainly.
“Yes, baby—your knees.” Reeve tried to make his voice gentle. “You hurt yourself earlier—I want to see them.”
“All right, my husband.” Rising shakily, Nallah looked down at her own legs with embarrassment. It was clear through the thin, see-through material of her trousers that her knees were still raw and scraped.
“Uh-huh—I thought so.” Reeve nodded. “Is there a medic kit around here anywhere?”
“In…in the necessary room,” she faltered.
“Good.” Reeve rose and took her by the hand. “Lead the way. Let’s get those scrapes tended to.”
* * * * *
Nallah felt like she was moving in a dream. Could this really be the Harryx she knew? Not only refusing to use her sexually but actually saying he wanted to tend her injuries?
He had never cared if she hurt herself before. Well, except for the time she’d slipped while chopping vegetables and cut her finger to the bone with a sharp knife. The wound wouldn’t stop bleeding and Harryx had been forced to take her to the House of Healing in the hovercar after he was already settled and comfortable for the night.
He had beat her after that—beat her so severely that the knife wound had felt like an angel’s kiss in comparison. Ever since then, Nallah had been certain to keep a well stocked kit of emergency med supplies handy. She didn’t want a repeat of the knife wound incident.
But now, here he was, being so kind and gentle. He made her get out the kit and then sat her on the edge of their soaking tub and pulled up her sex garments to bare her knees.
With a tender touch, he disinfected the small scrapes, spraying them with an antibacterial agent. It stung and Nallah drew her breath inward in a sharp little hiss.
Harryx looked up quickly.
“Sorry, baby—did that hurt? Here…”
Leaning forward he pursed his lips and blew a cool stream of air over her hurt knees, easing the stinging. Then he dabbed soothing salve on the small wounds and covered each with a healing wrap.
Looking up at her he asked, “Better now?”
Nallah, who had never known such gentle treatment from her husband in her life, had no words. She simply nodded, unable to take her eyes off him.
“Good.” And then he did something even more surprising. Bending his head, he placed soft kisses on the tops of her knees, just above the healing wraps. Then he straightened up and pulled the sex garment down. “All right, it’s late. How about we go to bed?”
At once Nallah stiffened—so he had put off taking her because he wanted to do it in the bed. Harryx did that sometimes, when he wanted to savor her submission and draw it out. The results were never pleasant.
But her husband seemed to read the expression on her un-veiled face because he quickly shook his head.
“No, I meant I’m tired and I want to sleep. I’m not asking about the bed so I can…can assault you.” He made a face as though the words were bitter, though they made no sense to Nallah. How could a husband assault his wife? Anything he did to her from physical punishment to sexual domination was right and proper, wasn’t it?
Still, she rose from the edge of the tub and nodded in the direction of the doorway.
“Let us go, my husband. Should…should I keep on my sex garment? In case you wish to use me in the night?” Sometimes Harryx liked that too—to wake her up by thrusting himself inside her, whether she was ready for him or not.
He made that face again—the almost pained expression which looked so foreign on his normally stoic features.
“Gods, no. I’m not going to hurt you in the middle of the night, sweetheart. Just wear whatever you normally do to bed and don’t worry about me. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”
Nallah could hardly believe him. He wasn’t going to touch her? He would really leave her alone? Did he really mean to allow her to completely forgo her submission tonight? She could scarcely believe it and yet…it seemed to be true.
“I…thank you, my husband,” she said quietly. “In that case, let us get ready for bed.”
Harryx stretched and yawned, his broad chest and muscular arms flexing as he did so.
“Sounds good to me. Lead the way.”
Wondering if he really couldn’t remember the way to their sleeping chamber, Nallah led him silently down the hallway. The blow to his head really must have changed his personality…but how long until it changed back?