Although a small fire crackled in the hearth, the air was chilled so far from the flames. As they were undressing, they tripped towards their bed. As soon as they were naked they burrowed under the covers, until they were cocooned in a bundle of blankets and furs with the world beyond shut away outside their door.
Gorren wanted to savour Elthrinn's body. There wasn't a hand's span of her skin that he hadn't already tasted, or kissed, but he wanted to learn it anew. He was unhappy to find prominent ribs and hip bones, instead of the curves that had taunted him in his lonely dreams.
"As soon as we're done, you're going to eat something."
"As are you. Your mother brought a pot of stew over. It's keeping warm by the fire."
"Rinn," Gorren murmured as he kissed his wife's neck, just below her ear. "Now is not the time to be speaking of my mother."
He kissed his way down her body, all but worshipping her breasts, which it seemed even her fast could not diminish. He suckled her nipples, until they were flushed and glistening, until Elthrinn began to push him away.
"Too much, wife?"
"No, but I've spent many cold nights in this bed, alone."
"You're impatient, then?" Gorren grinned as he spoke against the skin of her stomach, laughing as the flesh jumped under the sweep of his beard. If she responded, he didn't hear her words. He was in a world of his own making, the woollen blankets over his head, his wife's body under his hands and his tongue. He felt, rather than heard, Elthrinn's sigh as he manoeuvred between her thighs, and dipped his mouth to her sex.
From his first lick he had to hold her hips still. His world narrowed down to the dark shadows filled with nothing but the sweetly sharp taste of her delicate, wet flesh. It wasn't long before Gorren was the impatient one. He could feast on Elthrinn forever, but the rest of his body was making its needs known. He could feel his own moisture at the tip of his cock, his body's own way of begging for relief.
He crawled up Elthrinn's body, over her, until he could kiss her again. She didn't shy away from the taste of herself on his lips, or from the way that she had soaked his beard. Her enthusiasm fired off lightening in his gut, but he forced himself to pause with his cock just nudging at her entrance.
"Gorren, please," she moaned.
If he had been a cruel man, he would have made her beg more, but his need was too urgent. But still, he didn't thrust hard into her; he slid, slowly, slowly, pressing deeper, until Elthrinn had drawn her knees up and crossed her ankles at the small of his back, until he could go no further.
Gorren wanted to feel all of her. He withdrew, slowly, slowly, and pressed back into that delectable heaven just as carefully. Despite Elthrinn's gasps and pleas, he didn't increase his speed. When she tried to rock against him, tried to force a faster friction, he caught hold of her wrists and pinned them over her head. With her body stretched out beneath his, she couldn't get the leverage to move as much as she wanted to. He was able to have his way, just as he wanted, until Elthrinn reached her head up, and with the point of her tongue, licked a bead of sweat from his neck, just below his beard.
With just that brief, slickly rasping touch - somehow more intimate than all the other ways they were currently touching - Gorren was undone. He growled, low and deep in his chest. He didn't release Elthrinn's wrists, and he didn't miss her smile of triumph, but he started to thrust deep, and hard, and fast into her welcoming body.
Almost immediately, he felt Elthrinn begin to pulse around his cock, her muscles squeezing him, trying to hold him fast even as he moved. As much as he wanted to share her peak, Gorren found a reserve of strength from somewhere, and kept moving, even as she arched, and cried out.
And still he kept plunging into her, withdrawing slowly, and then snapping his hips hard and fast, hitting the deepest part of her. She could barely catch her breath. Her skin was flushed, and the sheen of sweat glowed in the firelight, she looked as though she were made of bronze. He could barely keep his grip on the damp skin of her wrists. He released her, and as soon as he did, Elthrinn tangled her fingers into his hair, and dragged him down into a violent kiss.
Feeling her tongue take his mouth as his cock was plunging into her sheath was his undoing. When Gorren growled and groaned, Elthrinn swallowed every drop of sound, until he had to throw his head back to howl at the rafters as he felt every last drop of seed leave him in jagged spurts along with every last ounce of his strength.
His arms gave way, and he collapsed onto Elthrinn. For many heartbeats they stayed in a sweaty, limp pile, too exhausted to move. Eventually, Gorren moved to keep from crushing her under his weight. He rolled onto his back, and pulled Elthrinn to lie on his chest, so that he could wrap his arm around her and feel the feather strokes of her breath on his skin.
Lying with his wife in his arms, staring at the ceiling of his own home, Gorren realised just how much he now had to lose. He had found his place in life in the army, he had found himself in those steadfast ranks, but he was beginning to think that it might be time to find another profession, one that would not keep him from hearth and home. Because he wasn't sure he would ever be able to tear himself away from Elthrinn again.
Chapter Nineteen
Elthrinn wasn't entirely sure how she felt about Gorren's friends accompanying them to watch her get her first tattoo. Well, first... last... she'd never had one before. Gorren was covered in art, and she didn't object to the concept, but until she knew how much it was going to hurt, she was calling this one her only. Felthissians, as a rule, didn't mark their skin. Elthrinn had never really thought about it before, but now that she did, she couldn't really recall ever having seen anyone with such artwork, until she'd come to Dorvek. And that had been a big culture shock, because everyone in this country, men and women, had lots of visible designs. Elthrinn thought maybe her unblemished skin marked her out as a non-native as much as anything else.
The tattoo had been Gorren's idea, and when he'd explained the design to her, she had known that there was no chance that she would even consider refusing. Even if it was horrendously agonising, it would be worth it. Gorren was sketching that idea out now on a piece of parchment, as Wodell, the man who would be permanently etching the design into her skin, prepared little silver bowls with ink, and sharpened wicked looking shards of bone. The crude sticks of whittled antler gave Elthrinn pause, but Jorm and Ornef, having seen the direction her eyes had taken, and probably the paling of her skin, reassured her that Wodell was a master, and that yes it might sting, but that it wouldn't really hurt.
Delban was watching over Gorren's shoulder as his sketch took shape. It was roughly in the shape of a circle, although it had no definitive outline. It was a portion of the night sky, depicted only in the placement of the stars within that area. Gorren was highlighting the stars which formed the constellation of the Grey Wolf. Apparently, or so he'd told her, that constellation hovered in the night sky over Cranak permanently. It was the guide for the army to find their way home.
Elthrinn was getting the mark of Gorren's home on the upper slope of her left breast, over her heart. As they had been lying in bed one evening, naked and sated, Gorren had laid his warm palm over the spot, and had explained that his home now was wherever she was. Elthrinn had been so moved that it had taken her a while to be able to speak, long enough for Gorren to fret, until she had been able to assure him that she loved the idea.
She was distracted now by Jorm telling her a story about Ornef and a troll, which Ornef was vehemently denying.
Wodell looked up from his preparations. "Are you ready to begin, little one?"
Wodell was an imposing man, twice the breadth of Gorren, or any of his friends, and at least as tall, but he exuded an air of calm professional pride that had instantly put Elthrinn at ease.
"No. But we probably should."
Wodell laughed, and made a shooing motion, flicking his fingers, at the four men in the room. "You lot can all make yourselves comfortable outside. "
Delban began to make some sort of argument,
grousing about providing Elthrinn with moral support, but Wodell shushed him. "To get this tattoo done where they want it, she's going to have to take her shirt off. If you pups try to stay and watch, I'm only going to have to clean the blood up after Gorren beats your eyes from your heads."
Delban tried to renew his arguments even more vociferously, but now Gorren was manhandling all three of his friends through the door. Once the door was shut, and locked, against his friends' laughing protestations, Gorren tried to join Elthrinn, but Wodell held up a hand, halting him.
"You. No hovering, and don't get in my light."
"I wouldn't..."
"You would. One flinch, and you'll be cooing all over her, and threatening to end me. No, there'll be none of that."
Elthrinn had to laugh, because if she wasn't very much mistaken, Gorren was pouting, but her husband obeyed Wodell. He gave her a gentle kiss before he took his seat. Elthrinn was sitting on what seemed to be a mattress laid on a bed that had been made up to be much higher than usual. Gorren had pulled a chair right up alongside it, so that he could sit by her and watch. He took her hand in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Wodell turned his attention to her.
"You'll need to take the tunic off, but leave the shirt. The neck is wide. It'll probably stain, but there's no need to take it off, unless there's a particular reason not to ruin it."
Elthrinn had no particular attachment to the shirt, and given her natural inclination towards modesty, she was glad to ruin it if it meant she didn't have to be half naked in front of a stranger.
She started loosening the ties of her overdress. "But you told the others..."
"Yes, I know, but they're a rowdy lot. It's best to get rid of them, and besides, I don't want your jealous husband to beat the eyes from my head. I'm rather partial to them."
Elthrinn sneaked a quick glance; Gorren seemed torn between amusement and irritation. His conflict made her smile as she hopped down from the bed to pull the long leather tunic off. She folded it, placed it carefully on the end of the mattress, and then retook her seat. By the time she had pushed herself back up onto the bed, her smile had faded as trepidation set in.
Wodell untied the strings that held the neck of her shirt tight. Elthrinn knew that if he simply pushed the edge of the material over her shoulder, he would have all the access to her skin that he needed. She was slight enough that she could choose to pull the shirt over her head, or step into it and pull it up her body when she dressed. Wodell seemed to realise the same thing.
"Just lie back, little one." She did as Wodell instructed, and he pulled the material out of the way to his satisfaction. The air was cool on her skin, and she felt more exposed than she would have preferred, but at least it was only the three of them in the room, which was a small comfort. He turned back to his bench, and returned with a folded cloth which he wiped over the patch of Elthrinn's skin where he would be working. The rag was cool and wet, and smelt of a faintly pungent odour that she could not identify.
"Try to relax, and try not to flinch. Let me know if you want me to stop."
Elthrinn nodded; her nerves had caught her tongue fast. Gorren squeezed her hand again. Wodell placed the scrap of parchment by her head. He turned back to his tools, and this time when he returned to the bed, he was holding one of the pieces of bone. The tip was now stained black with ink.
Elthrinn took a deep breath. She tried to prepare herself for the worst, and tried to hold still as Wodell leaned over her.
It wasn't as bad as she had expected, although, having never seen anyone being tattooed, she hadn't really known what to expect. Gorren had tried to explain the process to her, but it had been impossible to convey the fast stabbing motion that Wodell was repeating over and over, in short bursts. It was almost like a tapping against her skin. That wasn't to say that it wasn't painful. Elthrinn exhaled in relief every time Wodell paused and turned to dip the needle into the bowl of ink, but it was far more bearable than she had feared. It seemed that the limits of her endurance coincided perfectly with Wodell's need to replenish the ink on the tool. Occasionally, he would wipe the area with the cloth, which caused a rasping kind of soreness, like touching skin burned by the sun.
For a long time Wodell worked in silence. Elthrinn just stared at the ceiling. She wanted to look at Gorren, but dared only to slide her eyes sideways. She was trying to hold very still, so that Wodell wouldn't chastise her, and besides, Gorren seemed intent on watching the older man work.
The silence was becoming tense when Wodell broke it. "So, how does it feel to not be the only foreigner in town anymore?"
When Gorren's fingers tightened around hers, Elthrinn chanced a look at him. He was frowning at her. It had only been a few days since his return, and Elthrinn, having put any thoughts about anyone or anything that wasn't her husband or home, out of her head, had neglected to tell him about Athine.
Wodell had noticed Gorren's scowl, too, so he elaborated. "It seems your brother is quite taken by a tall piece from origins unknown. Apparently he found her on his recent travels, and brought her back with him."
"Her name's Athine." Elthrinn filled in. "I didn't get chance to speak to her much."
"She doesn't look like a friendly sort," Wodell commented.
"She might be nervous. It's not easy being so different in this country." Elthrinn really couldn't think why she was defending Athine, except that it was likely that Noridan's friend might be feeling as wretched as Elthrinn herself once had.
"And yet you're fitting right in, little one."
It was nice of Wodell to say, but Elthrinn didn't believe him.
"I wouldn't have thought my father would allow such a thing," Gorren said.
"Your mother says he thinks it's only a temporary diversion, that he's indulging him," Elthrinn replied.
Gorren just grunted.
It seemed like no time at all before Wodell gave several final wipes over her skin with a fresh cloth, and pronounced his work finished. Elthrinn didn't feel as though the whole process had been overly painful, but she would bite anyone who tried to touch her new tattoo. Wodell lifted a small mirror over her, so that she could see the new markings on her skin.
"It's beautiful," Elthrinn gasped.
It really was. Wodell had made the stars all varying shapes and sizes, although the largest were prominently in the configuration of the constellation, but he had made them all dainty and delicate. It was larger than she had expected, but she could see that it needed to be of such a size to accommodate the detail that he'd worked into it.
When she looked at Gorren, he only nodded, but his lashes were spiky with tears.
Wodell put the mirror aside, and began to smear a greasy salve over the tattoo, confirming Elthrinn's suspicion that she would want to bite anyone who tried to touch it. With a palm on her shoulder, he indicated that she should remain prone. He laid a square of fine muslin over his work. The light material immediately clung to the sticky residue of the salve. Wodell then retied the string of her shirt, before telling her that she could rise.
Elthrinn felt somewhat shaky, but she thought that might be partly due to the effort of trying to lie still for so long. Wodell handed a glass jar filled with yellow gunk to Gorren.
"You know how it goes. Keep putting this on it for the next few days. Wash it gently after nightfall. Pat, don't rub, when you dry it, and keep it from getting too dry or too wet for a few days."
Given the extensive coverage on her husband's body, Elthrinn knew that Wodell was saying the words for her benefit, even if he was directing them to Gorren. Elthrinn picked up her leather tunic, looked at it, and opted to fold it over her arm, rather than try to pull it on. She thanked Wodell, as did Gorren. The big man laughed, and said he'd see them again soon. Elthrinn hoped he was meaning Gorren, because she wasn't certain that she knew of any designs she felt strongly enough about to endure the process again.
As they walked out into the day that had become dusk, Gorren put his arm around Elthrinn's shoulde
rs, and brought her against his body. She appreciated the support, and it meant that his cloak was covering them both. She had donned her own, but had felt the need to keep the heavy wool over her shoulders, away from her tender skin.
It wasn't until they were halfway back to their cottage that Elthrinn thought to ask about Gorren's friends.
"Where are the others?"
"In the tavern, most likely."
The suggestion sounded perfectly reasonable. Elthrinn thought all conversation was at an end until Gorren asked, "Do you know where this Athine comes from?"
"Yes, Litt. She said knows of my brother."
Gorren missed half a step, causing Elthrinn to stumble until they regained their rhythm, but Gorren never let her out of his hold. The silence stretched out, taking on a grim cast, barely interrupted by the sounds of town life around them, until Gorren asked, "Did she say more to you?"
"Only that I looked like my brother." Elthrinn replied readily enough, but Gorren's unease was making her suspicious. It was a feeling that did not lessen when Gorren stopped walking, so that he could turn and look at her, although he kept her under his arm.
Searching the Darkness (Erythleh Chronicles Book 2) Page 21
