73 - Reunion ❣️

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Coris was occupied with dragon training. The maids had already come to collect her laundry. Meya didn't expect to be disturbed for the next couple of hours at the least. Still, one couldn't be entirely at ease without a bolted door between one's privacy and the outside world.

Meya studied the pink gum wand in its box and lace bag, cast in the shadow of her pillow, then turned to eye the tent flaps.

How long would she need? A quarter-hour? A half-hour? An hour? Shouldn't take that long for a lass to relieve herself, should it?

Meya mulled over her circumstances, and felt heat rising to her cheeks once more. Since the Hadrian brothers left, she'd been trying to think up a solution to her feeding problem—but it happened to be the time of night when she would be having fun with Coris, back when they were a happily married couple. And her naughty side wouldn't let her work in peace until she indulged it.

Meya drew in a deep breath, then heaved a sigh of defeat. She unwrapped The Substitute and slipped it under her linens, rousing herself with timid, clumsy movements. She turned away and closed her eyes in shame when she felt her body awaken and respond with enthusiasm, both to the reminiscent touch and the infused aphrodisiac. The potency of Rose Crystal seemed to have increased tenfold when in its powdered form, and desire soon overwhelmed all inhibitions.

The smooth resin was cold and yielding on her heated, sensitive skin—like Coris's fingers. She threw out her chest and braced against the tide, as the vivid memory sent waves of pleasure surging through her body. With her free hand, she tore apart the buttons on her tunic, one after another, then traced his oft-traveled path—down her neck, round her breasts, to her legs and back up, this time savoring bare skin. She pulled him in and sheathed him in her protection, seething against the pain as they soared together towards the Heights.

They crested the peak—then plummeted to the cold hard ground of reality. Meya collapsed panting onto her mattress, breathing in the scent of sunbathed hay wafting through the thin cotton covers. Damp fabric latched onto her naked legs—she'd made a mess of the sheets. Now that she had exhausted her sinful urge, however, she was too sleepy and content to move.

—You lazy bum! You can't just nod off! What if Coris came back before you woke up?

Agh, that donghead's seen worse. What's the fuss?

—Where's your dignity, lass? Get up! Or you'd never hear the end of this!

Grunting and whining at her conscience (which sounded very much like Mum) in what might have passed as dog talk, Meya strained against the sheet's embrace and swayed upright. Her chemise dangled off her shoulders in two halves and pooled in enormous folds atop her waist. She buttoned it back up with one hand, as she mucked about in the crumpled blanket for The Substitute with the other. Having polished the plaything to a shine with her nightdress, she was on the verge of slotting it away in its case when she froze, dumbstruck, at the evident change—

Had she imagined it? Or had it gone paler?

Meya held Coris's thoughtful gift up to the lamplight for a thorough inspection.

No, she hadn't imagined it. The Substitute—once pink like petals of evening primrose—now sported colorless blotches, and its overall color had faded like sun-aged paint. Had she absorbed that much Rose Crystal in one use?

Absorbed?

Meya sat petrified as the spark of inspiration streaked across her inner world, illuminating obvious connections she had somehow overlooked.

She couldn't bear to feed with her feet in open terrain, because she couldn't predict how far-reaching and drastic the drought would be—but what if she fed off a piece of concentrated ore clutched in her hands, or earth collected in a cordoned space, the way Polus and Caecil had fed the baby dragon? She should be able to circumvent the triggers of her trauma.

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