Page 95 of The Tenth Muse

“Wife … Mate,” Fawn said with a tentative smile, palming a huge breast slick with water, clenching her equally wet thigh with her other hand, “You finally came?—”

I took one step forward, then two steps back, until I was running back to the cottage with my invisible tail tucked between my legs.

That night, we lay back to back, not risking a glance at the other, not acknowledging what happened at the lake. I was drowsy not from sleep but from the potent mixture of poisons I’d used to suppress my rut. They were unnatural remedies I’d bought at apothecaries all over the southern Lunarian continent.

Like omegas’ heats, alphas’ ruts harmed those suffering through them without sexual release. And though I was a thief, I’d never carry the shame of forcing myself on someone to relieve the pain. So I kept the potions on me, and admittedly took too many. But why, when Fawn was literally wet and willing for me?

Why am I so afraid of the inevitable? Option two, remember Bri? Breed, butcher, then bail.

My plan was simple. However, I had no answers as to why it still hadn’t been carried out. I could come up with a third option: beg for something more valuable than her horns. As her wife, would she allow me to leave as long as she had the babe? Could I leave without damaging her more than I already had?

“Do you wish to eat some stew?” Fawn asked, breaking the silence so abruptly that I jolted forward from shock, nearly falling from the narrow bed.

“S-stew?” I stammered, confused.

“We may as well eat if we won’t sleep,” she offered, face still turned away, clutching her ornate orange pillow. “Brother delivered it this morning before I left. Said I hadn’t been eating enough because of my nerves …”

She drifted off, but I caught her drift and scowled. Her brother hated me. That much was certain. But the soft spot he held for his sister seemed to outweigh his contempt.

“Alright,” I offered, not seeing how I could deny her without sounding like an ass.

We made our way to the kitchen and settled by the hearth at a tall wooden table, after she poured us steaming hot bowls. It was a vegetable medley, for the most part, but I quirked an eyebrow at the chunks of meat in my bowl. Fawn smiled sweetly, wanting me to believe her brother, Omolan, placed some just for me. But I knew better. I didn’t say so, but I knew she had done this for me, and smiled back.

Then, Fawn and I sat in a comfortable silence, slurping and chewing contentedly. She didn’t probe for answers, didn’t expose her hurt from rejection. My wife was accommodating with the patience of a saint. In that moment, I hated her perfection, if only because it magnified my imperfections.

I shut my eyes. For a moment, a fleeting memory overtook the quaint cottage, and it blinded me. Or was that my tears?

A den of thieves, who were my brothers and sisters, replaced my beautiful wife, even behind closed eyes, before they turned around and knifed me in the back.

Home.

What would it feel like to be somewhere I could truly call home, where someone would wait for me and bring me peace? To do everything in my power to protect and care for them in return? Maybe even raise a?—

“Fuck that.”

I sucked my teeth and stood, pushing away from the table with a flourish. My plate, cup, and copper utensils rattled about as I stormed into the bath.

When I emerged, I hoped she’d be asleep. Instead, Fawn waited awake and naked, as she always slept, and reached for me.

My wife wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tightly, even as I lay in her arms like a stone. I closed my eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, and forced myself to rest. When I came to, Fawn was breathing evenly, and I risked everything and held her back. I relinquished control just a bit, despite knowing I’d never be able to turn back.

I began to wonder if there was a spell on her territory at all, or that of any god. Or, do humans like me, pitiful, yearning for something more, simply refuse to leave? Who knew. I didn’t ask; instead, I looked up at our small window as a shooting star passed. I prayed like a naive child that this sacred moment would never end.

Then, I drifted back to sleep in my wife’s warm embrace.

three

. . .

Brielle

I did not expectto live the life of a cozy, sheltered maiden when I set out to marry the goddess of the woods, but I couldn’t complain as I woke to a daisy chain being placed on my head.

“Morning,” I whispered, the sun rising and casting a peaceful glow around the entire cottage through our open window. The scenery overflowed with wildflowers, spices, and herbs from our gardens. I’d taken great care in nursing them back to health in between sewing myself sturdy pants and tunics to replace my flimsy wedding dress buried in the back of our armoire. I’d come carrying rags in my bag, and it showed every day from the wear and tear of the fabric.

I couldn’t keep relying on her magic without giving my wife anything in return, and refused her help no matter how much she stomped her hoof at me in protest. She made me and repaired enough outfits, and I was a big girl. I could, and would, always take care of myself.

Fawn had neglected the gardens, as she had the entire forest, which was drained of her power and needed to be renewed with new life. But I’d wasted three months since I arrived stalling what needed to be done. Something I had painstakingly avoidedbringing up as I busied myself by joining the melody of my omega’s quiet countryside life, learning her habits and wants, and my desire to run lessened each morning I woke inourhouse.

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