Rital of Proof (18 page)

The part of Jorlan that was acute to reactions of the flesh acknowledged her kindness.

The part of him that railed against being in this position in the first place, he temporarily suppressed. He knew he was going to have to reassess the path he took in view of what had transpired. He could not lie to himself. He wanted her. Admittedly, he was captivated by Green Tamryn.

In all ways.
His brow furrowed.

This was something he was going to have to work through. He could never forswear his ultimate goal of personal freedom and equality of choice. Men were human beings who had every right to control their own lives and property! Tomorrow would be time enough for him to regroup and formulate a new plan in that direction.

There was something intrinsically wrong with the synergy in OneNation. It was something he sensed but could not thoroughly define.

For the time being, it probably wouldn't hurt him any to wholly enjoy this new experience.

And he was enjoying it.

Too much.

Every time her fingers stroked him, he shivered. When she stopped, he felt bereft of her touch. She was like an arc storm to his senses—bright, thrilling, intoxicating. And he
burned
to touch her everywhere. She had not. allowed him to do so yet, but he vowed he would.

At that moment he was so deliciously languid, so perfectly spent, that he did not care what she did to him—as long as she kept doing it. In light of that, perhaps it would be wise of him to take some time to explore this unique relationship with her.

His thoughts drifted lazily with her ministrations.

His veil was gone. He wondered if he would seem different. He wondered why men had to go through such an ordeal the first time.

"They say that women might once have had veils... " he murmured drowsily.

Green smiled softly against his ribs. There was something about seeing the rebellious Jorlan dreamily sated that was highly satisfying.

"Do you believe that could have happened, Green?"

"I think it is a story that servant men tell at night in the sleep houses to hoodwink mischievous little boys who are eavesdropping on them," she chortled.

Eyes still closed, Jorlan grinned broadly, showing white teeth and dimples. "How did you know that?"

"It seems exactly like the kind of thing you would have done. You were a very precocious child."

"Really?"

"Very much so. I seem to remember the Duchene telling me that you were forever getting into mischief."

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Ah, yes, that other Jorlan Reynard."

He laughed.

Green loved his laugh. It was so complete. Unlike the other come-outs who snickered genteelly at anything a damselle said that might be interpreted (with a huge measuring cylinder) as witty; Jorlan's laugh was outright and textured. The kind of laugh that made one Want to join in.

It was a shame he did not do it often. Green vowed she would get that laugh out of him at every opportunity.

Her hair tickled his thighs. He lifted his head. "What are you about down there?"

She smiled against his curls. "Should I show you or tell you?"

The edges of his lips curled up. He rested his head back on the pillow, folding his hands behind his head in a waiting posture.

Green chuckled. "I see."

"What?" he drawled. "I am merely resting. Which as you know I need after the ordeal you have put me through."

"You're right. You do need to rest." She stopped her ministrations and scampered up the length of him.

His face fell. "I was teasing." He paused. "You need not stop, Green."

"Yes, I do. You are sore and raw. It would not be right of me to continue."

"I'm fine, I assure you. Do not stop on my account," he offered graciously.

Green gave him a look.

"And what brought about this change of attitude?" She rested her chin on his chest, waiting.

He stared at her, realizing what he had just admitted. Not only had he liked what she had done to him, he liked
how
she had done it. In fact, he was hungry for more. Even so, he wasn't ready to admit that. Especially since she had bid for him against his will. He was not going to get over that so easily.

"Hmm? I didn't hear you."

He fumed. "I think you heard me very clearly awhile ago."

"Yes, the entire estate and probably half the countryside heard you, my wild one." Her finger played with his nipple, circling and rubbing. "I liked it."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I was not referring to that." He paused. "I don't think half the countryside heard me."

"You may be correct."

He gave her a cautious look, waiting for the other boot to drop.

She obliged. "No doubt the
entire
countryside heard you."

He snorted. "You mistake your own yells." The look he gave her was so engagingly sweet that Green felt her heart warm.

"Tomorrow, I'll make sure they hear you all the way to
Capitol
Town
."

He sucked in his breath. "You think you could do that?"

"Oh, yes." She pressed her lips to his in a deep kiss. This rare part of him was so sweetly artless. She realized that he had become vulnerable with their lovemaking. It surprised and moved her.

"Mmm," Jorlan breathed into her mouth. "I like your kisses, Green; I always have."

"I know." She slipped her tongue inside, tasting him.

Jorlan's pulse speeded up. "That does not mean I am any less disposed to this situation."

"I know." She suckled on the tip of his tongue.

Jorlan hardened instantly. "You know, I am not that sore, Green..." he assured her again. Just in case.

She pulled back. "You are more sore than you think, and if we continue in that way, you will be very uncomfortable tomorrow."

"Perhaps I will endure this soreness if—"

She placed her hand over his lips. "There are other ways. I will show you."

His pupils flared. "More than what we have done?"

"Oh, much more." She grinned.

"What ways?" He laved her fingers, letting his tongue curve around and between. "Tell me."

"Tell you?"

"Show me," he mouthed.

She rolled off him and left the bed, heading for the bathing chamber.

"Is this something we are to do apart?" he joked, calling after her.

She laughed. "Nooo. I am getting a basin of water."
A basin of water?
His agile mind played with the possibilities. What could his name-giver do with that? She returned, carrying the water bowl and some cloths.

He looked at her skeptically. "What do you do with
those?"

She chuckled. "Well, nothing too serious. We need to clean you off, blaze-dragon. There is always blood the first time."

He hadn't realized that. He glanced down, seeing the smears streaking the length of his manhood.

He paled. "I did not realize."

"No, of course you didn't. Men are worried enough about the fastening. There is no sense in scaring someone silly with talk of blood." She carefully dabbed the smears with the water-soaked cloth. The cool liquid felt good on him. Her soothing care felt better. She was being very thoughtful. Again, he realized most name-givers would not be so.

"Will the bleeding continue?"

"No. It is from the membrane. Once it is ruptured, it is over." She finished cleaning him up. "There; good as new."

"Maybe better," he drawled. "Thank you, that was... kind of you."

She looked at him surprised. "You are my name-bearer, Jorlan. I will always take care of you."

He was not happy with her response. "I see."

"I doubt you do, but I hope you will in time."

"Green?"

"Yes?" She placed the bowl with its pink-stained water on the table beside the bed.

"What did you mean earlier when you said it would be more painful for me than others? Why did you say that?"

Green walked back to the bed and sat down on the edge. She took his hand in her own. "Jorlan, have you never noticed anything different about yourself?"

His brow furrowed. A sudden angry expression clouded his features. "I have told you—I am not a Santorini."

She was not sure about that, but decided to let that go for now. "Perhaps, but I am speaking of something else."

"What?"

"The way you respond to touch, for instance... "

"Not all touch." He gazed at her. "You do not have to tell me I am acutely susceptible to your touch; I have already learned this."

Green paused. He had just admitted something to her that he was not even aware of. He was not just affected by her touch, he was
susceptible
to it. She put the revelation away to contemplate later, when she was alone.

"What?" He watched her carefully.

She took a deep breath. "I believe you are a Sensitive."

"A Sensitive. You have mentioned this before. What pray tell, is that?"

"We're not sure, exactly... " she hedged. He waited. Silently, patiently. In control. The very qualities that many had observed in lyrical exposition about Forus. The enigmatically beautiful moon they lived on had often been cited as having mystical, arcane depths. The methodologists had indulgently agreed—in the poetical sense only.

Green wondered. It struck her that Jorlan was a strange combination of naïveté and ancient wisdom. In certain practical matters of life, he seemed to have little or no knowledge; yet in deeper things, he seemed to have an abiding intuition, an almost uncanny sense of the collective consciousness. He reflected attitudes beyond his years.

There was true, innate strength within him. She was not sure if he recognized it—or, was well aware of it yet hid it from others.

"There have been very few Sensitives that we've known of to study."

His expression froze at that and she reassessed her earlier supposition.
He knows something is different about him. He protects himself.

She cleared her throat. "We do not know why, but on rare occasions a male is born who seems to have certain extrasensory abilities."

"What are these abilities?"

She shrugged. "They appear to be completely different for each individual. One was seen to have a pre-knowledge of the coming of arc storms... " She watched him carefully. No hint of expression crossed his features to give away his thoughts.

"Another," she continued, "knew where the underground rivers flowed across the desert plains to the west."

"These seem like very innocuous abilities, as you call them. Why the interest?"

"Regardless of their particular areas of strength, there are three attributes all Sensitives seem to have in common. One is a superlative receptive ability with anything involving aesthetic perception."

His eyelash flickered.

"They also have an elusive beauty about them."

"So?"

"So this makes them a very rare and sought out—you'll excuse the expression—commodity by the Top Slice. Such males have urgent, profound desires; they are entwined with all things sensual. Once introduced to pleasures of the flesh, they become master and slave to passion at the same time. In short, they are phenomenal lovers."

A strange smile played about his lips. "And you think I am like this?" He laughed softly.

Green arched her brow. "I think you have the capacity for this, yes."

A flash of white teeth showed her what he thought of that. "I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or not."

"It is not about feeling flattered. It is about what is. Your bed price would have been enormous, if it was believed you were a Sensitive. I might not have been able to afford you."

His face darkened.

"Sensitives from aristocratic families are seldom seen. Ironic, isn't it—if you thought to hide this attribute to prevent the bidding. You probably would not be here right now. In all likelihood, you would have gone to the House of a Duchene instead."

"I was already in the House of a Duchene." Green viewed him thoughtfully. He wasn't as opposed to this fastening as he would have everyone believe. She wondered if Jorlan was more opposed to the concept of the fastening itself rather than the idea of being with her. He had more than enjoyed the coupling. "Yes, you were."

He rubbed his lower lip with his forefinger. "What was the other trait you spoke of regarding these Sensitives?"

"They all have a strange connection to Forus. It almost appears transcendental, really; it is not well understood."

"How is this transcendence displayed?" He sat up in bed and rested back against the twining columns of sheensui bark that made up the crafted piece. The sheensui had been twisted and formed around the bed. Over the years, it slowly continued to grow, taking its moisture directly from the air. Eventually, the columns would bend and meet, forming a lovely latticed arch over the bed; a cocoonlike haven for its occupants.