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Oh. “I’m here,” I tell him, and reach out to caress his cheek. His skin is cool against my touch, but when I caress him, a look of pure ecstasy crosses his face. The pure joy my touch gives him makes me ache, and I need to focus on the here and now. Zaroun wants my attention. “My apologies. I was just lost in thought.”
“I know what it is like to be lost inside your own mind.” Is that a tease in his voice?
I pull off the sash at my waist to use as a blindfold.. “Lean in,” I tell him. “And then we can enjoy ourselves without fear.”
* * *
Zarounand I spend hours on the blankets together. My stomach eventually stops growling and I make a mental note to raid the kitchen later. For now, spending time with the Aspect is my priority. Today, he doesn’t want to be serviced, though. He’s content for me to stroke his hair as he lays his head in my lap, and I tell him about nothing at all. He likes the sound of my voice, and the feel of my hands, and so I share stories about the low, flat buildings in Rastana that are made of fired brick, and how they’re carefully stacked atop one another like layer cakes. I tell him about how bright the sun is there, and how blue the waters of the sea. I talk of the bright fabrics from home, and how one of my masters was a silk-seller who had the most gorgeous bolts of fabric in jewel tones of every color, and how I’d loved to see them and touch them.
And all the while, I stroke his hair and touch his face, careful to avoid the blindfold.
It’s nice. I’m not used to talking so much about myself, but I’m discovering that I don’t mind it. Zaroun is a good listener, and he’s content to hear me talk about anything and everything. There’s no expectations, and it’s just a lazy, sweet day.
Eventually though, he sighs. “I should return to my duties.”
“If you need me, you know where I am.” I smile at him as he gets to his feet. I get up, too, shaking out my skirts. “I’m going to go and get something to eat, but if you want me to come back later, just say the word. I’m happy to sit in the corner and sew if you want company.”
“I shall think upon it.” He takes my hand and lifts it to his mouth, pressing his lips to my knuckles. “My thanks, Yulenna.”
My name. It shouldn’t be so startling to hear coming from a god’s lips, but I like hearing it. “You’re welcome, Zaroun.”
“Now please leave so I do not watch you die,” he says, tugging at the blindfold that covers his eyes.
I quickly exit his chamber and head down the long, winding slope that encircles the tower. At the very bottom is the kitchens, and food, and my stomach growls as if in reminder.
Before I get very far, however, another figure appears. It’s the gray-eyed Aspect—Neska. His expression is cool and hard, and I startle, moving aside. The smell of dust that accompanies him fills my nostrils. “My lord,” I breathe, dropping into a curtsy. “Can I help you?”
“I don’t know yet.” He continues to regard me with that hard, vaguely displeased look, and I’m reminded of the fact that he waited outside of my room all night. He’s probably spied on my time with Zaroun and decided that he didn’t like it.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to juggle pleasing all three of them if spending time with one annoys another. Biting back my frustration, I wait for him to say something. When he doesn’t, I gesture at the hall. “I’m heading to the kitchens but that can wait—”
“No. Continue.”
Oh. Very well. I pick up my skirts and head down the hall again, deeply aware of his stare boring into the back of my neck. He follows after me, a few paces behind, but says nothing. I can’t help but feel that I’ve done something to offend him, but I don’t ask what.
As soon as we get into the kitchens, though, he speaks. “I’ve decided you should service me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Service him. Of course that’s what he wants. That’s all he ever wants. I remind myself that despite the pleasant time I spent with Zaroun, I must be mindful that all three of them are gods and all-powerful. That being with them here is an honor. Have I not served worse?
Dutifully, I haul my skirts up and lean over the nearest table. I push my bare ass out and spread my legs, waiting.
Nothing happens. He doesn’t touch me.
A long, uncomfortable moment passes, and then I turn to look over at him. He’s still staring at me with that hard look of distaste on his face. His robes remain closed, and I can’t see if he’s hard or not.
“Is this not what you want?” I ask. He’s taken me like this many times before, so I know he doesn’t mind the position.
“I am not hard for this.”
His words are ice cold, as if I’ve done something wrong. Alarmed, I turn and drop to my knees in front of him on the floor. “I can service you with my mouth, or my hands, until you’re hard—”
With an irritable flick, he pushes me away. “I want what Zaroun has.”
Now I’m getting frustrated. “I have serviced Zaroun with my mouth—”
“That’s not what I meant.” He sounds petulant. “You smiled when you touched him. You made sounds of pleasure. I couldhearthem.”
“Do…you want me to make sounds for you?”
