Inheritance

Part 2. Chapter 37: For the Price of Gold

Pollyanna murmured with her cheek pressed against the edge of Eory's mattress, as if she were still in the past and trying to fall asleep in the rain, "it's cold."

Eory could have sworn he felt a raindrop on his cheek as she said it—being as imaginative as he was.

The young girl tried to fall asleep under the cascading, freezing liquid, to no avail. She thought that the only thing colder than the rain upon her cheek, was the indifference of her mother—who couldn't care less whether the girl were sleeping in a soft bed or in a watery creek. Eory mused to himself as he gnawed his arm.

Poetry at a time like this! Taylor interrupted.

"Quiet, you..." Eory whispered.

When Pollyanna cocked her head to the side, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "If you're cold... You can sit up here with me."

Pollyanna smiled softly. She stroked her chin. She glanced up at the ceiling briefly, and then back to Eory—pretending like it was a difficult decision. She swung herself on top of the bed.

She paused, momentarily, with either knee on either side of Eory's hips—intending to roll to his side—but he impulsively grabbed her arm with one hand and stayed her where she was.

The old woman was frozen like a statue.

She breathed heavily; she felt like she did on the rare occasion that an enemy soldier managed to disarm her in combat.

Where does this confidence come from? Taylor wondered sarcastically.

From you. Eory replied, holding Pollyanna's gaze with his own seductively.

Playing with a woman who could be killed by such actions? To think I thought you were good and boring! Taylor exclaimed excitedly.

His body was filled with passion that he didn't know what to do with.

I don't want to play with her. I want to make love to her. Eory admitted to both himself and Taylor. Whatever that entails...

But his passion was nothing compared to the passion that Pollyanna felt; the passion she knew what to do with.

She was not an imaginative woman, but she was now.

Eory's eyes roamed over her body and made her feel like the most wanted woman on Yharos; particularly when they rested on her chest which was slightly exposed due to the loose neckline on her gown.

He ran an elegant hand through her rough hair. He murmured in a sing-song voice. "Got my hand through it..."

Pollyanna giggled as it got stuck in tangle the further down it went in her hair.

She waved a finger at him. "Not quite."

Eory was only provoked by her coy manner; he sat up—gently pushing her down on the foot of the bed as he did so.

There was a sharp pain in her heart that she barely noticed because it was beating with such pleasure. She closed her eyes and turned her face on her cheek with a delighted sigh.

Eory surveyed her body with delight.

Her chest heaved up and down.

He desired to press his hand to it--but was too nervous to follow through.

Pollyanna opened her eyes and saw him looking; she lifted his thin wrist and placed his hand on her breast.

His head felt light with pleasure; he was willing to kill her in that moment to follow through with that pleasure.