Page 32 of His Bride

“It’s almost as good as your cock,” she murmurs in my ear, her lips making brief contact with my lobe.

Oh, she is going to test my resolve on this one. As lustful as she remains, I cannot do anything sexual with her in this state. It is hard enough to maintain self-control under normal circumstances. Now she is being explicitly erotic. Some part of my mind tells me that it’s not just the drug. She needs to be mated. She needs to be bred. The Artifice sent her to me in order to create progeny. The somewhat blunt conversations at the soiree were not wrong on that count.

“Please, Mr. Archon-General,” she breathes, her lips closing around my earlobe before she finishes her thought. “Please fuck me again. I’m not a virgin anymore. I’m yours to use.”

My cock is rock fucking hard.

“Stop it,” I warn her. “Or it won’t be your sweet pussy that is fucked. You have another hole yet to be used.”

“My mouth?”

“Your ass.”

She looks at me, shocked. A moment later, she laughs at the top of her lungs. “That’s silly. You can’t do that there. That’s not what it’s for!”

“I can assure you that you very much can do that there,” I tell her, smirking. She’s so innocent, even as she tries her best to be a femme fatale. “And I will show you, when these drugs wear off and you are entirely back in your body again. I want you to feel it. Every bit of it.”

“I think I would feel it now. I feel everything,” she says, breathing deeply. She lies back beside me, smiling up at the stars above us.

I realize quite suddenly that I have not enjoyed anybody’s company this much in a long time. There is a freshness and an innocence to my bride, along with her clear carnal hunger. She has a bright and ready mind, as well as a good temperament. She is not a simple little country girl the way I assumed her to be, or at least, that is not the entirety of what she is.

I missed her at the soiree, too. I am used to the separation of genders. It is traditional, but I noticed her absence as soon as she was swept off to that infernal women’s lounge.

Is this what love is? Is it becoming suddenly so attached to someone that the world seems brighter with them, and duller without them?

I look over my shoulder, out of habit more than anything. In the distance, Lydia is waiting, leaning against the hood of the surveillance vehicle that of course followed us out here. She is not for show, nor are the several other guards in and around the car. I have enemies in New Boston, plenty of them. My habit of erasing anybody who crosses me does not endear me to everybody, but I do not care, as life has taught me that leaving them alive is a far worse idea. I bear too many scars from those I showed mercy to make that mistake again.

“I didn’t know what to expect when I was told I had been matched to you,” Mila is saying. “But I think the Artifice must know what it is doing, if it brought me to you.” She lets out an adorable little yawn. In the distance, the sun is starting to rise. I have spent an entire night with her and not noticed the passing of time.

“I think it is time you went to bed,” I tell her. “It has been a long night for you.”

“It feels like it all passed in an instant!” She echoes my sentiment, getting to her feet and shaking herself. “I have sand in my dress. I’ll have sand in the bed before you know it. Sand goes everywhere, doesn’t it. Sort of like the Artifice. I’m very grateful to the Artifice, you know. Even though I took the Soma, I still like it. Do you think it’s possible to take Soma and stay faithful?”

“No,” I say. “Because breaking the rules means disrespecting the one who gave you those rules, and disrespecting the Artifice by funding the Soma trade, and therefore the rebels who oppose it…”

“Why are all the fun things forbidden?”

“Not all of them are,” I remind her.

“Oh, yes,” she grins broadly, catching my meaning. “I suppose there are still one or two pleasures left in this world.”

I lead her back to the car. Once we start driving, she is almost instantly asleep. I feel myself relaxing knowing that she is safe. The Soma has worn off, and I will ensure she never encounters any of it ever again. Soma is insidious that way. Once you try it, you are compelled to try more. I still remember my experimental phase, though it was over twenty years ago now.

Mila is still asleep by the time we get home. I pick her up and carry her upstairs, over the threshold of both the fortress, and our apartment inside it. She is a joyful weight in my arms. Shefeels like solid responsibility and like sweet innocence. She feels like someone I intend to protect for the rest of my life.

I have not been in love in such a long time, and never this deeply. The connection I feel to this young woman is intense. It is the work of the Artifice, I believe. The machine knows what is best for all of us, including me. This is a good reminder of why I do what I do, and how I became who I am.

I settle her onto the bed, but before I go back and remove her dress and get her ready for bed, I check in with Lydia. She sleeps when Mila does, and I can see she is tired. But we need to be clear that she is responsible for all threats to my bride.

“Mila had never seen Soma before,” I say as she comes to attention.

I would usually tell her to stand at ease. This time, I do not.

“Presumably not, sir.” Lydia’s expression is well-schooled. She knows what I am about to say, but she waits for it to come.

“But you had,” I say. “Your job is to protect her from harm. Someone got close enough to dose my bride. It could have been anyone, with anything.”

Lydia stiffens. I know I am being hard on her, and probably unfair.

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