Chapter XXIII - The Hunt

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An obtrusive cold brushed its way up along my back and woke me from disturbing dreams. I curled myself into a ball, pulling my limbs up against myself in an attempt to conserve as much of my body's heat as possible. As the last dregs of drowsiness left me, I realized I was alone in the colossal bed. The embers, glowing peacefully in the hearth, were now my only company. 

Turning over onto my back, I inspected the vacant space beside me. It was dimly illuminated by the slate-hued beams of dawn breaking through the window, muted by what promised to be another colorless winter day, for all of the four short hours that the sun might grace us with her presence.

Most the the furs and blankets had been relegated to a useless heap on the flagstones and were thus the reason for my chilly awakening. Where was Lucian and why did I feel so melancholy of a sudden? I supposed that a bride should want the company and reassurance of her husband on the morning of her first day as his lady. I concluded then that I did miss his presence beside me, having grown unconsciously, and miraculously, used to his solicitous warmth in the night. A shy smile crept over my lips as I reminisced indulgently over the night before.


"You are not going to sleep already, are you, wife?" came my husband's challenging query.

"I had planned on it, yes." I snuck a demure look at his wicked grin.

 Something had occurred to me — an unseemly thought that made me giggle quite out of character and certainly did not pertain to anything I might consider appropriate romantic discourse. Lucian scowled at me, which frightened me not at all for he yet maintained a sly curve to his aspect.

"You would laugh at a naked man?" He feigned an offended glower, and ineffectually withal for he still appeared amused. "Will you not share the joke?" I bit my lip bashfully, unwilling to voice the silly notion. I regarded it, of a sudden, not as humorous as I had previously assumed. "Tell me," he urged, leaning over me so that his right elbow now pressed into the pillow beside my head and his large, left hand splayed possessively over my belly.

"I... well, it's just that I thought..."

"You thought what exactly?" Still he was calm. Ostensibly delighted by my flustered babble.

"It's...not the way...you know, the way the hounds do it," I finished with a groan of discomfit. He seemed somewhat taken aback.

"My technique, you mean?"

I nodded as my cheeks became suffused with the color of heated humiliation. Lucian scratched thoughtfully at his stubble; the same stubbled that had chafed my skin raw moments ago. I watched with trepidation as a new, wayward grin merged his features into something purely devilish. Deviant.

"Well then..." He flipped me over onto my hands and knees with effortless talent, a bewildered squeal erupting from my lips as he did so.

"What-" 

But before I could articulate my confusion, he pressed his chest into my back and wove his fingers into the back of each of mine. Lucian then brought his lips close to my ear with wicked intent.

"I accept the challenge!" he whispered teasingly before inducting me further.


I pressed my hot face into the pillow remembering each detail of the long night. I had slept little and yet I felt no fatigue. Tender in places, yes, but not tired in the least.

The mattress dipped behind me and I held my breath as Lucian eased himself flush against my bare back. As per usual, I had not heard his stealthy approach. I stilled in anticipation, waiting for what he held in store for me next.

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