Raised to Kill - Page 92

“Be free,” the voice whispered in her ear and it almost felt as though a pair of invisible arms embraced her. “I free you now—I free your Song. ALWAYS shall your Song be free!”

“Oh…” Allara looked around in wonder as the wind died down. “Is that…the Kindred Goddess?”

“It is indeed, daughter.” The priestess smiled at her. “She has forgiven you. Now, you must forgive yourself.”

“I will,” Allara murmured and to her wonder and joy, she found that she actually could let go of the awful guilt that had tormented her nonstop for what felt like forever. She looked at Brand with shining eyes. “Husband,” she whispered. “You cured me!”

“No, baby—the Goddess cured you. She just let me help.” He pulled her into his arms and held her close to him and for the first time in a long time Allara found she was able to hug him back without guilt or shame.

“Husband,” she whispered, pressing close to him. “Thank you for forgiving me.”

“Gods, it’s so good to hear you call me that again!” Brand murmured hoarsely. “Love you so much, baby. Let’s go home so I can hold you.”

“I’d like that.” Allara nuzzled closer to him, loving the familiar, spicy scent of his skin. “I want you to hold me all night long.”

Forty-Seven

Brand carried her to a different suite—a guest suite he’d asked Sylvan for the use of. He didn’t want to bring his bride back to the place where so much strife and sorrow had happened between them. He wanted to start fresh with Allara, and love her in any and every way that she would let him.

As he cradled her to his chest, he was so glad and grateful that the Goddess had intervened to help rid the woman he loved so desperately of her guilt and shame. He could see the difference in her lovely, indigo eyes when he looked at her. They were no longer clouded and sad. Instead he saw new joy and hope there. It was almost as though she had been born anew, there in the Sacred Grove, when he washed the bloody stains of her past away and broke the bonds of the Unbreakable Oath that had bound her for so many years.

I never should have doubted, he thought and sent a silent prayer upward. Thank you, Goddess. Thank you for caring about Allara, even though she was not born as one of your children.

All who wish to be are my children, he seemed to hear the Goddess whisper in his ear. I will always be there to help and guide them.

Gratitude filled him and he hugged Allara even closer to him as he approached the door of their new suite.

“Husband?” Allara murmured. “This is not our suite, is it?”

“No, baby. I wanted a fresh start,” Brand told her. “I thought it would be good to spend the night someplace else tonight.”

“That’s a good idea.” There was relief in her voice. “I like starting fresh.” She shivered slightly. “But will this new suite have a bathing pool? I find myself still chilled by the water from the fountain.”

“Of course, baby. Would you like to take a dip together—just like during our Bathing Week?” Brand asked her.

Allara nodded and gave him a shy look.

“Will you wash me again? Like you did during that week?”

“I’d love to wash you, baby,” Brand growled softly. To be honest, he would have been willing to do almost anything to touch her once more. She’d been keeping herself rigidly separated from him for days and he ached to be close to her again, skin-to-skin.

Allara seemed to feel the same way because she nuzzled close to him, pressing her face to the side of his neck and breathing in deeply.

“Mmm, husband, I missed your spicy scent,” she murmured softly.

“I missed your scent too, baby. I missed everything about you,” Brand told her as he opened the door to the suite.

Inside there was already a fire in the fireplace but instead of the usual couch or loveseat, there was a strange-looking chair pulled up in front of the crackling blue and green flames. It had a tall back but no arms, though there appeared to be footrests on either side of it. The strangest thing, though, was the fact that its seat had hinges.

“What’s that?” Allara asked, noticing it.

Brand frowned. “This must be a special bonding suite—that’s a breeding chair.”

“A breeding chair?” Allara asked. “What is that, husband?”

“A special chair for couples who want to bond especially deeply,” Brand explained. “Look…”

Putting her down gently, he pushed the back of the chair and it glided forward noiselessly. As it did, the hinged seat tilted upwards. When it glided back, the seat tilted down.

Allara shook her head.

“I still do not understand it.”

“The male sits in the chair and the female sits in his lap, facing him,” Brand explained. “The motion of the chair and the tilting of the seat thrusts his shaft in and out of her as they glide together. It makes for a long, slow, lovemaking session—or I’ve heard. I’ve never tried using one of these before,” he explained.

Tags: Evangeline Anderson Science Fiction
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