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“That was perfect,” he said hoarsely, stroking one of her thighs. “Fucking perfect, baby girl.”
“Perfect.” Makenna propped herself up on one elbow and echoed him. “Perfect feels good, Bard!”
“Felt pretty damn fine to me, too, baby girl,” Bard growled.
You really shouldn’t have done that, you know, whispered a guilty little voice in the back of his head. Bard pushed it aside. He’d been healing the girl, he told himself and what harm had it really done to give her some pleasure into the bargain? The Goddess knew, she’d had little enough of it in that fucking hell hole he’d taken her from on Passion Prime. How did it hurt to show her a little tenderness and give her an orgasm as he healed her? Wasn’t he worshiping her soft little pussy the way a warrior was supposed to do with his female?
That’s the problem though, that same little voice told him. She’s not your female and she never will be. It would be wrong to take her as a mate and you know it. You’d be dishonoring Rilla’s memory and tying Makenna’s young, vibrant life to your much older one when you formed a soul bond. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!
It was only once! Bard argued, pushing the voice of his own guilt aside once more. It’s not like I’m ever going to do it again—she’s healed now so there’s no need.
That was what he told himself as he climbed out of the pool and reached for a towel. It had only been once, to heal her, and he would never taste her again.
No matter how much he ached to.
20
Makenna didn’t like the new nightgown that Bard had bought for her to wear. It was itchy and hot and it kept her from having skin-to-skin contact with the big warrior. Everything else was beautiful, but that nightgown had to go.
Sitting up beside him in the big bed, she swept the itchy thing over her head, leaving her blessedly cool and unencumbered. Then she insinuated herself under his arm and threw a leg over him, pressing her naked body to his.
“Makenna?” His voice was thick with sleep. “What in the Seven Hells are you doing, baby girl?”
Makenna was understanding more and more of what he said to her all the time—she would estimate that she got nine words out of ten. So it was extremely frustrating that her ability to speak his language hadn’t caught up with her ability to comprehend it. She was still talking like a baby and it was irritating that she couldn’t explain what she wanted and needed—couldn’t tell him about her ripening and how her body craved his touch so badly.
“Makenna hot,” she tried, when he propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her with a frown. “Gown too hot—Makenna take off.”
“Yes, I can see that, baby girl,” he rumbled dryly. “You’re all fucking naked and pressed up against me. Can’t hardly miss it. Now, come on—you know we can’t do this.” And he gently but firmly peeled her off of him and pushed her to her own side of the big bed.
Makenna felt another surge of frustration. Why wouldn’t he take her? After the sweet way he had healed her pussy with his tongue earlier that evening, she’d been certain he would finally help her through her ripening. She’d been even more certain when he came to bed with her,
“To keep you from having anymore screaming nightmares, baby girl” as he put it.
But then, Bard had simply laid on his side of the bed and gone to sleep—without so much as touching her once!
Makenna lay there beside him, feeling frustrated and overheated, with the need growing between her thighs. She wasn’t at the danger point—she didn’t feel The Emptiness yet—but she didn’t think she was far from it either. If she didn’t have a male to guide her through her first ripening and bathe the mouth of her womb with his seed, she would eventually succumb to Ripening Fever—a dreaded disease that happened to the women of her people if they had no male to help them during this critical time.
But she couldn’t explain any of that to Bard and when he pushed her away she felt both frightened and rejected. What if she was never able to explain her plight to him? What if he kept refusing her and she started feeling The Emptiness or worse, got Ripening Fever? What if she died just because she couldn’t make him understand what she needed?
Tears rose in her eyes and she buried her face in the pillow and tried to sob as quietly as she could. She was cold with the awful nightgown off. Bard’s big body put out heat like a furnace but he had refused to let her touch him or get near him, so she shivered and cried into her pillow.
