Shifting Isles Box Set (Books 1-3): The Prisoner, S.P.I.R.I.T. Division, and Return to Tanas

by G. R. Lyons

  Zevic shook his head. “Women are lesser. Good for nothing more than warming a husband's bed and bearing children. Oh, and feeding him, of course. She'll learn her place, soon enough.” Zevic rose and headed for the door. “Make sure she gets you that file,” he called over his shoulder. “And give her a sound beating if she doesn't.”

  The door shut, leaving Graeden alone at the table, staring at his half-full glass of warm water. He glanced over at the box, replaying in his mind the memory of Zhadeyn offering it to him.

  She wanted to marry me? he thought. In the gods' names, why?

  Graeden pushed his glass aside and pulled the box closer, slowly tilting it toward himself so he could look inside. The sight of the knife made him shiver, calling up memories he'd been trying so hard to forget.

  He shoved the box away and crossed his arms over his chest, deciding he'd wait for Zhadeyn to bring him the files, and then he'd go back to his assigned apartment, finish out the expedition, and go back home when it was time, leaving Tanas and all its insanity behind him.

  As he waited, though, his imagination called up images of some other man owning Zhadeyn. Ordering her around. Beating her.

  Bedding her.

  Graeden shook himself, pushing the thoughts aside.

  Just stop it, he told himself. You barely know her. Don't even consider it.

  But the longer he sat there, the more he knew he could never stand to see her belong to anyone but himself.

  Without realizing he'd decided, Graeden snatched up the blade and headed down the hallway.

  “Zhadeyn?” he called, checking the first room he reached. The room was empty but for several small beds. He closed the door and checked the room across the hallway. It had one bed and an attached washroom, but she wasn't there either. Graeden opened the door to the last remaining bedroom, where there were two beds, one of which was made, and the other was bare of sheets.

  Zhadeyn was bent over the empty bed, organizing papers into stacks. She started and backed away as he stepped into the room.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you,” he said.

  She nodded rapidly and went back to her work, murmuring, “I'm almost finished, I promise.”

  “Zhadeyn.”

  She flinched away but didn't pause at all in putting together the files.

  “Zhadeyn.”

  He lightly touched her on the arm, and she glanced over, dropping the papers when she saw the knife in his hand.

  “You offered this to me once,” he said. “I didn't understand what it meant.”

  She turned slowly to face him, keeping her head down, and went very still.

  “I want you,” he whispered, taking a step toward her. “Gods know why, but I do.”

  Zhadeyn said nothing, but kept her eyes on the knife.

  “Tell me what to do,” he said, reaching out and lightly touching her cheek with his free hand. “I don't know how this works over here.”

  Zhadeyn swallowed hard and held her breath, then slowly reached up and grabbed his hand, moving it from her cheek to her wrap where it was draped over her shoulder. She curled his fingers around the cloth and started drawing it down off her shoulder.

  “Wait, wait,” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder before the cloth moved enough to leave her exposed. “Zhadeyn?”

  She pressed her lips together and looked away, then told him in a shaky whisper, “You bed me, and then I'm yours.”

  Graeden dropped his hand to his side. “What?”

  Zhadeyn nodded and looked down at her hands. “You bed me and then mark me, and I belong to you.”

  “That's it?”

  She nodded again.

  Graeden frowned, studying her face, and saw her eyes swimming with tears.

  “You don't really want this, do you?” he asked.

  Zhadeyn hesitated before she said, “It's not up to me. If you want me–”

  “But it is up to you,” he said, tossing the knife aside and taking her hands. “Zhadeyn, you're a human being. You're not property. This has to be your choice, too.”

  She shook her head and looked away.

  “Zhadeyn?”

  When she didn't respond, Graeden let go of her hands and took a step back, then turned for the door. He reached the hallway and stopped, turning back to face her.

  “He wouldn't hesitate, would he?” he asked, and Zhadeyn frowned in confusion without looking up at him. “The Elder's son,” he said. “The one Zevic said would come here to claim you. He would rape you without a thought and haul you off to be his slave, wouldn't he?”

  Zhadeyn flinched and stifled a cry, backing up a step as she wrung her hands.

  Graeden approached her slowly and asked in a whisper, “Zhadeyn, why did you offer that knife to me?”

  She took several halting breaths before she answered, “Because you're different. I hoped…I mean, I thought…”

  She looked away again, shaking as Graeden took her hands.

  “Zhadeyn, would you look at me? Please?”

  Her breath caught in her throat, and it was a long while before she managed to actually meet his eyes. Graeden studied her face, trying to make sense of what he was doing.

  “Gods, I don't…This is probably the wrong thing to do, on so many levels, but I…I just…I can't let him have you, Zhadeyn. Gods help me, I barely know you, but I want you.” He brought their hands up and held them against his chest. “Would you still have me for a husband?”

  Zhadeyn looked down at their hands and nodded.

  “Zhadeyn?” He waited until she looked back up at him. “I swear to you, I will never harm you, I promise. If you'll be my wife, you'll be my equal, not my property. Do you understand?”

  She shook her head, frowning as she looked away.

  Graeden sighed. “Well, we've got plenty of time for you to learn. I'll teach you all about life on Agoran, so when we go back there–”

  Zhadeyn yanked her hands free and backed away.

  “What's wrong?”

  She shook her head. “You should go.”

  “What? Why?”

  He took a step toward her, and she backed up again. “They'll never let me go with you. And if you claim me, they won't let you leave, either.”

  “What? That's ridiculous. They can't keep me here.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were wrong, even before Zhadeyn shook her head. He pictured the armed guards standing before the Gate back to Agoran, and made another mental note to thank his grandfather for his wisdom and foresight.

  “Don't worry,” he said, closing the distance between them and running his hands up and down her arms. “There's another way off the Isle. We'll be fine.”

  She looked up at him with wide eyes, then looked away, a hint of color on her cheeks.

  “Zhadeyn?”

  She shook her head. “I can't– You'll be trapped here. It isn't right.”

  “I can't just walk away and let him have you, knowing what he'll do to you,” he told her, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Please, Zhadeyn. Trust me, we'll be fine. Unless you'd rather be with him–”

  She flinched and shook her head rapidly. “Gods, no.”

  “Zhadeyn,” he murmured, tilting her chin up and smiling at her. “It'll be alright. I promise.”

  He bent forward and kissed her softly, feeling her go stiff in his arms.

  What are you doing, Grae? he thought, slipping his arms around her waist. You'll only bring more complications and drama down on your head.

  Graeden stopped kissing her, looking down at her puzzled expression and the fear in her eyes, and shook his head.

  This one, I can save, he told himself.

  “You can kiss me back,” he murmured as he leaned in close.

  She frowned and looked away as he lightly touched his lips to hers, so he pulled back again.

  “What's wrong?”

  Zhadeyn hesitated, avoiding his eyes, and whispered, “I'm confused.”

  “
How so?”

  “I don't understand this,” she said, gesturing at their faces.

  “What, kissing?” he asked with a laugh, and she nodded. He cupped one hand under her jaw and murmured, “Just taking it slow.”

  He kissed her again, pulling her closer, and still got no response. When he leaned back a little to look down at her, she looked even more confused than before.

  “You have no idea what is going on right now, do you?” he realized aloud. He took a half step back, keeping his hands on her arms but giving her some space as he looked down at her. “What do they teach you about sex?”

  She shrugged and said uncertainly, “It makes babies?”

  Graeden almost laughed.

  “Yes, sometimes,” he said, making her look even more confused. “And what else?”

  Zhadeyn shook her head. “My mother just told me to keep still and do whatever I was told.”

  Graeden let go of her and rubbed his eyes.

  “Alright, so we're taking it very slow,” he said, then steered her toward the bed. “Come, sit down.”

  They sat facing one another on the edge of the bed, Zhadeyn pressing her hands together between her knees and keeping her eyes on the floor.

  Graeden opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head with a laugh.

  “Gods, I thought I'd be spared this conversation for another dozen years, at least,” he said. Zhadeyn looked up at him, confused, so he shook his head again. “Never mind. Alright, so…”

  He launched into an explanation of male and female organs and the process of reproduction, watching her expression change from confused to horrified to curious and back again as he spoke. She rested her hands on her belly, her eyes going unfocused, and Graeden got the unnerving suspicion that she was somehow internally observing her ovaries and other organs as he described them.

  Graeden thought back to the man he'd treated for a head wound, complaining about the young girl who was meant to be his wife and didn't 'understand her duties', as the man had put it. He shook his head, inwardly scoffing at the primitive backwardness of it all.

  “Zhadeyn,” he murmured, gently taking her hands and pressing them between his own. “It doesn't have to be a scary thing. Biology aside, sex is supposed to be an act of pleasure.”

  She nodded. “A husband's right, to ease his cares.”

  “A husband's–” he began, then laughed. “No, no, no. No man has a right to a woman's body, nor does a woman have rights to a man's. Sex is not just for men, Zhadeyn. It's an act of pleasure between two people. It's an expression of desire and a celebration of one's life and body, but sharing that experience with another.”

  Zhadeyn looked up at him, thoroughly confused, and averted her gaze again.

  “But…women can't…enjoy sex,” she murmured haltingly, shaking her head.

  “And who told you that?”

  She shrugged. “It's just known.”

  Graeden looked at her, a grin slowly lighting up his face. He picked her up and carried her to the other room, where the bed was larger, laying her down gently as he murmured, “Well, I'm going to prove them wrong.”

  Chapter 17

  AS THE night wore on, Graeden thought the effort of holding back might kill him, but he was determined to show Zhadeyn that she could enjoy the act and participate rather than just be merely submissive, as she'd been taught. He hadn't spent an hour just kissing a woman in so many years that he'd forgotten how frustrating it could be, but after taking the time to ease her into it—slowly undressing her and even more slowly exploring her body with his hands—until she fully opened up to him and cried out in pleasure, he knew the effort had been worth it.

  He held her while she came down from her orgasm, grinning as she finally kissed him back and hesitantly put her arms around him. Moving slowly, he had her help him undress, seeing her blush and look away as his body was exposed, and made love to her as gently as he could, easing her through the first pain of their union, and then finally and blessedly finding release for himself.

  Without even separating from her, he felt the need again, and worked them both back up to a frenzy of pleasure, reveling in the sound of her moans and cries.

  When it was over, Graeden eased himself off of her so she could relax her legs, and lay on his side with an arm draped across her waist.

  In the moonlight, as the minutes passed, he saw her expression go from one of dazed pleasure to one of blank shock.

  Pushing gently, he got her to turn over onto her side with her back to him, and pulled the blankets up over her, wrapping them tightly around her and hugging her back to his chest.

  “Cry, Zhadeyn,” he whispered, kissing her lightly on the shoulder and tightening his hold. “Don't hold it in.”

  She held her breath, lying very still in his arms.

  “It's alright,” he whispered. “Let it out.”

  Zhadeyn let her breath out in a gasp, held it again, and then burst into tears.

  She curled in on herself, drawing her knees into her chest and covering her head with her arms. Graeden kept her wrapped up tight, held firmly in his arms, and said not a word while she trembled and sobbed.

  After what felt like an hour, her body went slack in his arms, her breath going shallow as exhaustion pulled her down into sleep. Graeden held her a while longer, then got up to hunt around the kitchen for something to eat, took a quick shower, and climbed back into bed, falling asleep almost instantly with Zhadeyn in his arms, not even having to run through his meditations like he normally did.

  He woke in the middle of the night, feeling Zhadeyn trying to carefully pull herself free.

  “Don't leave,” he mumbled.

  Clutching the sheet to her chest, she looked down at him in the moonlight.

  “I'm not supposed to sleep in here,” she whispered.

  “Why not?” Graeden asked, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

  “This is a man's room,” she said.

  Graeden started to reach out to touch her, then stopped himself. “You know, where I come from, it's normal for couples to share a bed. But, if you'd rather be alone…”

  He saw her glance toward the door, then back down at the bed, and after a long moment, she slowly lay back down, hugging the sheets around herself. Graeden folded his thin pillow in half and lay down facing her.

  “This must be very strange for you,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “You just…look so confused,” he murmured, the moonlight just bright enough to show the furrow in her brow.

  “Oh. Yes. Well…”

  “You don't have to sleep in here just because I asked. If you don't want to–”

  “No, it's not that.”

  She fell silent, so he asked, “Tell me.”

  Hugging the sheets more tightly against her chest, she asked, “Why did you ask me to cry?”

  “Because you needed it.”

  She nodded. “How did you know?”

  Graeden took a deep breath and reached out to rest his hand on hers. “I could see it in your face. It was too familiar.”

  She lifted her eyes to his, then quickly looked away, a questioning expression on her face.

  “When I was at med school,” Graeden began, “they sent me on an internship in Westfield City. It's a voluntary commune—they don't believe in private property—so it's very poor. A lot like Tanas, actually. Anyway, they have a free clinic there, funded entirely by donations, and available to anyone who needs minor emergency care, so the clinic was always busy.” He paused, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. “What I saw the most of, though, were women who had been raped. No, not even women. They were girls, mostly. It got to where I could tell even without asking them a single question. It was that empty but haunted look in their eyes, like their souls had been ripped out. The ones who were able to cry were able to get through it much more easily. The ones who held it in…Well, they were much harder to treat, and often wound up suicidal.”

  Zhadeyn frowned tho
ughtfully, then whispered, “But…you didn't rape me.”

  Graeden took her hand and held it to his chest. “It was still a shock though, right?” he asked, and she nodded hesitantly. “A sudden change in your life, and something you didn't understand. So once the reality of it set in…”

  He trailed off, and saw her nod in understanding.

  “I didn't want you keeping it all inside and letting it build until it haunted you,” he continued. “I want you to be able to enjoy this with me.”

  She looked away, ducking her head to hide a blush.

  “Did you?” he asked, and he saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth as she nodded. He kissed the back of her hand and held it to his chest again. “Good.”

  She started to nod, then sat up with a gasp.

  “I didn't make you dinner,” she said, scrambling to untangle herself from the sheets.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” he said, reaching out and gently grabbing her arm. “It's the middle of the night.”

  “But–”

  “I had something. I'm fine. Please, just…come back to bed.”

  She looked at him skeptically, but slowly eased back down, clutching the sheets around her as she stiffly rested her head on the pillow.

  “Just get some rest,” he whispered. “Are you warm enough?”

  Zhadeyn shrugged, so Graeden pulled her closer, tucked the sheets around them both, and held her hands, settling down and closing his eyes. He waited a moment, then felt her relax beside him, and when he opened one eye just slightly, he found her curled toward him with her eyes closed. Smiling to himself, Graeden adjusted his pillow and closed his eyes on a sigh.

  * * *

  EARLY THE next morning, the buzz of voices at prayer started to pull Graeden out of his dreams. Groaning and exhausted, Graeden struggled against the noise, trying to force it away so he could go back to sleep.

  He felt a slight movement beside him, then a strange pressure in his head before the voices vanished, letting him slip right back into slumber and forget the world for a few more minutes.

  When he woke again, blinking and rubbing his eyes, he saw Zhadeyn bent over him, fully dressed, her hands hovering on either side of his head.

  She looked extremely confused.