Page 74 of Changelings
In the end, he guided her to a colorful stall full of fine fabrics. Imogen recognized the merchant, Emelda, and the three of them had a pleasant chat. She was one of the few who didn’t look at Balar with a degree of wariness; instead, she smiled big and talked him into another embroidered pillow. And then another blanket, like the one he’d gotten Imogen before, but twice the size.
Before Imogen could argue, Balar whispered, “For my place beside you in bed. You always steal the blankets.”
If Emelda hadn’t been as polite as she was, pretending she couldn’t hear Balar, Imogen might have melted into a puddle of embarrassment.
They left Granach only after having visited every stall—except Gilda’s. Her manticore seemed more than reluctant to go, so she hadn’t insisted. Besides, she hadn’t any business with Gilda today.
It was on their final walk to the Ahearn farm that Imogen realized—“Balar, you can’t keep wasting your coins on me. Those were expensive.”
“Not to quibble, but I bought them for myself. You, my wilykigara, managed to make it out of there without having chosen anything. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
Well, that was true. Still, she couldn’t help her consternation.
Pinching her chin between his finger and thumb, Balar tutted. “Don’t pout. I’ll be going back soon. You’ve given me plenty of ideas.”
“N-no, that’s not—!”
“And it’s not wasting coins to spend them on you. There will always be more coins.”
“But…how…?”He spent his time with her, and it wasn’t like she was paying him a farmhand’s wages.
Balar merely shrugged. “Mayors of villages are compensated. And my brothers and I often work for the Brádaighs when they need additional hands. Our expenses have been few—we all look forward to spoiling akigara.”
His answer didn’t make her feel better, really, even as he whistled a jaunty tune between his teeth as they strolled.
He wouldn’t be mayor for much longer, though, and Imogen refused to let him spend all his savings on pretty things for her. Or himself. She made a tidy profit from her farm and the products she sold, but she couldn’t say for certain that it would support them both.
Fates, this was a lot to think on. She’d need to sit down with her ledgers, consider expanding the garden, maybe even procuring a few more goats. She’d been saving what was left of her inheritance; perhaps she should take the risk and invest in a small flock of the exotic breed of sheep from Caledon she’d been considering for years.
“I can hear you thinking,” he teased. “Please don’t trouble yourself, Imogen. We’re comfortable. We have the winter to consider what we wish to do next.”
We,he said.What we do next.
Whatever they decided, it would be together.
She marveled that that thought actually made her feel better. She hadn’t been part of awefor a long time. It…felt good.
A smile tugged at her lips, and she realized that this newfound sense of belonging had been growing inside her for a while now. The more time she spent with Balar, the more she never wanted to leave his side. Because beside him was where she felt she belonged.
“Thank you for coming with me today.”
With his hand at her waist, Balar pulled her closer to nuzzle her temple. “Of course. I’d never miss an opportunity to see your family home.”
Imogen blushed. She was getting used to all the romantic things he said and did, yet he always managed to make her go pink. Although, maybe it was less getting used to and more…becoming familiar with. She didn’t know if she’d ever truly be used to it—she certainly wouldn’t take it for granted.
“However…” His teasing purr buzzed against her ear, inciting a spark of warmth low in her belly. “I wouldn’t say no to a reward.”
“A reward? What kind?” She knew just what kind.
Each day, they tried something new, something more. All of their experiments and exploring were about learning each other. There were no wrongs, just things they preferred.
To Balar’s delight, Imogen found she inordinately enjoyed having her breasts played with. They’d spent long afternoons discovering that she could orgasm just from having her nipples pinched and her breasts squeezed. She was a well-endowed woman, but with his big paws, he could hold all of her.
Honestly, if she’d allow him to walk around with his hands full of her breasts all day long, he’d probably be the happiest manticore alive.
Every day they practiced, sometimes old favorites, othersdiscovering new pleasures. Imogen flushed remembering the day before last, when, over a lazy long morning, they’d laid in bed pleasuring each other simultaneously. She’d knelt on all fours over him, completely still, for a long while, her mind catching up to the position. Facing down his giant manticore cock was intimidating too, thick, pink, with a spade-shaped head, but it was hard to think with his textured tongue lapping at her.
“Wh-what’s here, at the base?”she’d managed to ask, gently running her fingers along the bulbous root. It couldn’t be his bollocks; those were furred and lay further down.
