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CHAPTER NINETEEN: A DATE
MARIE
Sleep weighed heavily on me, my dreams peppered with images of Cortland - his face between my thighs, his cock twitching inside of me, the way his fingers seemed to plug my ass, thrusting in and out with piston-like movements, filling me with a desire that was designed to create addiction - force reliance upon a creature that could not be relied upon.
Solomon’s words ran through my mind, echoing into my core, branding me a traitor to my kind, labeling me a silly gypsy girl that hadn’t heeded her grandmother’s teachings. It was those words - that judgment that the King had held in his eyes that saw me chased from sleep, my experience tinged in shame. Since leaving this village - running from Julian and that waful first sexual experience, I had made myself a promise to never feel shame in my sexuality - in the way I explored my body and who I unravelled new experiences with. And yet, I felt as if I had come home only to find myself with the same conundrum - the same level of shame and guilt prickling behind my eyelids, only this time it entailed a Demon. A very talented Demon, but a Demon nonetheless.
I stepped out of my tent into the morning sunlight to find Nicu sitting near the campfire, his presence comforting only in so far that it was expected. Everything about the man was calculated and not the least bit surprising, but perhaps I needed less surprises, perhaps some conformity was in order. It was those thoughts that had me pulling up a seat next to Nicu, offering him a bright smile - the same kind of smile I had given to King Solomon on the banks of the river the night before.
Nicu seemed to blossom under my gaze, his chest expanding as he ran his eyes over my figure appreciatively. I wore a simple black sundress with ribbons that tied in the place of straps, the hem hitting just above my knee, showing off far more skin than I had dared to flash the village, lest they assume I was a woman on the hunt for a man. I found the husband hunters to be the same across continents and cultures, and my village was no exception with mother’s vying for marital arrangements for the babes still in their womb, dressing them up in favorable fashions when they came of age, declaring their talents to all who would listen.
“Are you speaking to me today?” Nicu offered me a roguish grin and I realized that I may have categorized him unfairly.
“That depends,” I grinned back at him, delighted that all farces and pretenses seemed to have been dropped on his part, “are you still trying to woo me as a politician?”
He threw his head back, allowing bounding laughter to wrap us up, enveloping us each in a comforting hug.It was a nice sound - a comforting sound, and I wondered if this was how the women I knew felt about her husbands?
Perhaps not Corinne, for Dimitri was the least comforting person I knew.
“Is that where I was going wrong?” Nicu finally stopped laughing just as one of Marta’s girls offered us coffee from tin mugs. “And here I thought that a girl like you wouldn’t appreciate a simple gypsy boy such as myself.”
He clutched the tin mug between his fingers and I stared at his hands, pinkish in color with broad shortish digits that may have been good for working the hands. Not at all like the piano fingers belonging to Cort, his hands imbued with the magick of lust and desire, filling me with aching want with a simple touch.
I looked away, forcing a smile to my lips, for now was not the time to be thinking of Cortland.
“Let’s not play these games, Nicu, for you are not a simple gypsy boy, and I am not interested in anything more than a simple dalliance.”
“That is more hope you’ve given me in this moment than in the entire duration that I’ve been here.” His smile was infectious - the kind of smile a boy might offer a girl.
“Hope is a dangerous thing for people like us.”
His gaze didn’t waver from mine as I answered, and finally he broke the game, speaking words that made me feel uncomfortable - made me want to run away from his offering, but the memory of Cortland and Solomon’s words had me rooted on the spot.
“Let me take you on a date.” I froze. Horrified and unsure. I hadn’t felt this uncertain since Julian - since my grandmother had told me that I had to stay, that I couldn’t leave him - leave the village. I had felt trapped - suffocated, and so I sat there, willing myself to remember that this was not the same - that Nicu was not Julian, and that I had left - hadn’t been trapped at all, abandoned perhaps, but never trapped. I exhaled through my nose, willing the panic to dissipate.
“Do people like us date?” I aimed to sound coy, forcing the tremor from my voice, but the question was still valid, for Nicu and I were both part of our respective clans, and we were also not part of them.
“I’ve learnt to make my own rules as I go, for none in existence seem to apply to me and my ambitions.” His blues found mine, lighter and easier somehow. I imagined that he was the type of man who had a lot of friends - who surrounded himself with people simply because they flocked to him, being an easy and amicable leader.
I hummed in thought, tapping my fingers against the metal cup, making a rhythm all my own as I allowed his words to settle upon me, breathing them in as if they were my own. Could I apply such notions to my life? I wasn't certain, for Magick operated on a strict set of rules, even when I didn’t always understand them.
“You must be very ambitious to wish to take me on a date in this village. I needn’t remind you that the village bar and Inn is not open tonight.”
“You will find Miss des Montagnes, that I am incredibly resourceful when I need to be.”
I nibbled at my lip, watching his blue gaze track the movement as I thought his offer over.
“Okay.” I exhaled. Perhaps I agreed because I felt that Nicu was a kindred spirit, or perhaps I agreed solely to prove Solomon wrong. In the end I told myself that regardless of why I agreed, I could use the date as leverage by building further relations between his Clan and mine.
“I’ll be outside your tent at eight.” I stared at him, weighing his demeanor in order to determine whether he was joking.
I wanted to joke back and tell him I had a curfew, or say something flirtatious, or cancel the whole thing entirely. But, I did none of those things, instead I simply nodded my agreement, and with each movement of my head, I felt the noose tighten around my throat, dragging me under until I felt as if I were suffocating.
***
What did one wear to a dinner when one didn’t know the full extent of the plans? In the end I settled on a black dress, the sleeves sat off my shoulder and the skirts flared at the hips, the hem sitting on my thighs. I was in mourning, but I wasn’t adverse to sex and all the pleasures of the human body.
A light tap against the white canvas of my tent told me that he was here, and I imagined that this is what my friends growing up in America must have felt like in their teens as boys picked them up for dates, arriving at the front door, posturing as gentlemen.
