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That night,the night, he had stripped her to her rawest form as well—he’d made herwoman.
Not a Queen. Not a Master.
She hadn’t truly understood what he meant when he said it. He’d requested those very things, and she’d readily agreed.
They would be equals just for that night. They would come together as they were, truly naked, without pretense, titles and roles.
She’d never connected with another human beingthat way. Not just the sex, but the baring of body, mind and soul.
The closest comparison would be the connection with her beloved Papa. In very different ways. There was a fundamental trust, of course, without which a deeper connection could never be made. There was friendship andlikeas well. A mutual caring and respect.
Yet, the connection she felt with Shai was enormously different. Infinitely deeper. Richer.
He awakened her to a part of herself she’d never known before. Or perhaps forcibly buried and ignored. It was the most basic part of who she was—not a daughter, a Queen, or a Master, but merely a woman.
A woman desiring a man in the most primal, undeniable ways.
They would never be equal, she realizedafter.
He was so far above her, she could never hope to deserve him.
She never knew the desperate need within her to please this man. To earn not only his respect, but also his approval. To worship him physically because he was ambrosia to her. As necessary as air, food and water. To wrap herself in the strength that was imbued in every fiber of his being.
He was akingin every way but his designated role. A role assigned to him by an arbitrary fate. Yet, he served her. Belonged to her. Lowered himself for her.
She did not deserve it. Had never earned it.
He looked the same the morning after, and yet he was infinitely different to her. She never noticed the sadness in his eyes before, the deep-rooted pain etched in the permanent clench of his hard jaw.
She realized with a sudden, blinding epiphany, as if Horus himself had touched her with a blazing insight, that she’d been hurting the one person who protected her all this time. Who gave every bit of his loyalty and devotion. Who never failed her and never would.
Not because he was coerced to do so for fear of punishment. Not because he was her slave and she, his master.
But because he wasShai.
He was not a man who would ever stoop under the metaphorical yoke. He didn’t put his life in danger to save hers because it was his “duty,” his “role.” His protectiveness, honor, dignity and strength were inherent tohim.
The man.
She had always taken him for granted, despite that she cared for him. Valued him. She realized, that night, that she wanted todeservethe loyalty and devotion of a man like him.
She wanted to win him. The man she couldn’t have, not the slave she already “owned.”
She tossed upon her bed again, flipping to her other side.
Shai’s breathing was even and deep, barely audible. He was always so quiet and unobtrusive. Always there where and when she needed him, supporting and protecting her from the shadows.
Since that night, she’d become extremely sensitive to everything about him. Things she never noticed. She watched and analyzed him in new ways that endlessly fascinated her.
Case in point: she knew despite the evenness of his breaths that he was not yet asleep.
He never did sleep, she realized, until she was. As if he purposely made himself available should she need him… to talk, to listen, or just to silently comfort by virtue of his sentient presence.
He always awoke before she did. Was always dressed and armed for the new day.
It exasperated her to no end, to not ever be able to watch him unguarded. To indulge her desire to simply see his face relaxed in slumber, his chest rising and falling in untroubled sleep.
The way a wife might wake up beside her husband, stroke her fingers in his tousled, wavy hair, caress the relaxed lines of his beautiful face. Touch his naked body simply because she could. Because he was hers and she was his, and there were no barriers between them.
