Page 16 of Taken By the Barbarian King

"My princess, are you becoming delirious?" I ask. I've heard stories about mates who lost their minds during the interlude. Our doctors mentioned something about isolation being bad for some people's brains but didn't research it further since it was such a rare occurrence.

"What? No, Thundar! I'm not becoming delirious. I just…” She huffs, deflating a little. “You can’t call those women wenches."

I blink in confusion and reach for her hand. I expect her to pull back, but she lets me hold her. She's grown softer for me in the past few days. I guess fornicating for four days straight will have that effect on humans.

"But that's what they are, my princess."

"Thundar, darling, a wench is such an offensive word for any woman. I'm sure there are much nicer terms you can use."

I don’t see why it’s an offensive word, but if Lottie says so, then I believe her. "I'll call them whatever you want me to. Would you like… a woman?"

She laughs, shaking her head. Then she lifts her hand to my face and caresses the peaks of my cheeks, my brow bone, the scruffy sideburns. Wherever she touches, a little fire lights up under my skin, and all the fires build to a scorching heat that shoots straight to my groin, branding me something fierce.

A groan rumbles up my throat but she doesn't flinch, like she did the first couple of days. Instead, she bites her lip and slow blinks as if she's a wild animal and I've just gained her trust.

I lean forward, closer to her, and hover my lips in front of hers. It's something she’s done to me so now I return the favor, leaving it up to her to close the distance.

When she does, it elicits a moan out of her. She pulls me back down on the bed with her guiding me to her wet pussy and I take her for the hundredth time. I'd take her a hundred more if I could. I'd take her from now until the end of time.

I don't know what she's done to me, what kind of spell, what kind of magic, but I've never wanted another woman like I do her. She's ruined me for anyone else. It’s common amongst the Aysgoth aristocracy for husbands to abandon their wives in favor of the brothel wenches. But I can’t imagine any woman being as supple, as delicious, as intoxicating as my Lottie.

I kiss every inch of her body after we've both climaxed but she crosses her legs before I can lick my essence from her body.

"Oh God, Thundar, no. I need a shower. I must smell."

She certainly has lost the ceremonial delicate scents she'd been bathed in before my arrival, but I prefer her like this, in her own skin, her own scent.

"You smell divine to me."

She chuckles.

"Yeah, I'm sure you think that, but I feel yucky. Can’t we go to that place where they bathed me before?"

I return to her kiss-swollen lips, admiring my handiwork. " No, we can't go there. It’s outside the mating chamber."

She narrows her eyes into slits and stares at me.

"Why not? Aren't you the prince?"

"I am the Crown Prince of Ays?—"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Which means you're the highest in command on this ship. So explain to me why a prince can't do whatever the fuck they want in their own ship?"

I open my mouth but she puts her fingers on my lips and raises an eyebrow.

"And your answer better not be about tradition and customs."

Well, she's got me stumped there. And to be honest, I agree. Our customs are more primitive than I prefer. The interlude is one of those customs, but I've been having such a wonderful time with my future queen, that I forgot my objection to the whole ordeal.

Yes, fornicating for five days straight before a wedding sounds like bliss to me, but why do we have to cut ourselves off completely?

"You know, I'd kill for a bath too." I try out the new phrase I’ve learned–I like it, it feels very Aysgarthian. I kiss her cheek then take her hand and bring it up to my lips to do the same.

Her eyes light up at my response.

"You mean it?"

I push myself off the bed and help her up before we approach the door. The Thing wakes up and starts circling our feet.

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