Episode Eighteen Clouds

H azlan

The memory is hazy because much of it was lost in the mists of time, but I recall my parents talking about gods when I was small. I gave up believing long ago after a thousand or maybe a million of my prayers went unanswered.

But at this moment, how could I not believe in the gods when they saw fit to throw this particular female into my cage?

Not only is she beautiful, but her heart is so sweet. She's so kind and caring. That she has affection for me? That tops everything.

"I'm not sure I deserve you," I whisper.

"There are things about me you don't know," she admits. "Like how I went to sleep every night wishing death upon Joseph. I'm not a good person."

"Mayhap you should think about that some more. Hating someone who torments you and beats you doesn't make you a bad person." Right now, I don't want her thinking about the humans or the past. "We both earned a clean start, Lylah. Let's enjoy the day."

I probably shouldn't have brought her here. Definitely shouldn't have brought the bearskin. She asked me questions about my past, but didn't tell me about hers. That's okay. I spent much of my life at the Works. Things drift to slaves' ears.

We saw and heard how the humans treated their females. It was common knowledge they bought their mates at auction and discarded them when they were tired of them.

Some sent them to what they called the Punishment Tower. Considering how they treated us , I can't even imagine how horrible the Punishment Tower might be. I'm sure it was better than what I heard a guard brag about once. He felt no remorse about putting his discarded mate to death.

No. Lylah didn't have to spell any of that out for me. That's why she doesn't need me pressuring her to share her body with me at the stream. All of that can wait until she's ready.

"I've never been outside the gates of the Works," she says when we arrive at the stream. "This is beautiful."

I lay out the fur and we sit on it, leaving a foot between us so things don't feel awkward. Little Lylah has a close-lipped smile on her face as she breathes in the scents of the water, trees, and loamy earth.

My cock is hard. Has been since we woke up except for the moment I stood before her with my misshapen wings exposed. In the quiet depths of my heart, I'd hoped the Energy Transfer might have healed them. Even at the time, I knew it was too much to expect the process to heal my body and save my life. It's just that my clipped wings bring me such shame. I need to get over that. There are so many other good things in my life.

Lylah lies back on the fur and looks up at the sky.

"That cloud looks like a castle," she says, pointing.

I know I'm taking advantage when I scoot closer before lying next to her. Following the direction her finger is pointing, I say, "I see it."

For long minutes, we find fanciful formations in the clouds and point them out to each other. Perhaps if our lives had been different, we would have done this when we were children, but our lives weren't different. It feels intimate as she and I observe the sky and share things no one else on Earth can see right now.

My cock is twitching beneath the leather pants Boreas handed me before he left. Lylah is beautiful and sweet and lying less than a handspan from me. Her voice gets softer and softer as she speaks, almost as if she wants me to scoot closer to hear her. I take her hint and slide even closer.

"Put your head on my arm," I offer as I stretch out. She easily complies.

As I consider how to stop looking at the clouds and start kissing her, Lylah turns toward me, smiles at me in a way no female ever has, and licks her lips. She's no longer gazing at the sky. No, she's staring at me. Not my eyes, either. She's looking at my lips.

"I've been thinking about how you taste, proudborn."

Is there anything she can call me that doesn't cause my cock to jerk in my pants? There's something about the way she utters "proudborn" that makes me feel like the best male who ever walked the Earth. No. Not the best male. The sexiest male.

I don't wait for her to say another word. I simply fold her closer, erasing any distance between us, and touch our lips together. It isn't even a proper kiss, but it ignites something within her because she rolls on top of me and straddles my hips as she slips her tongue into my mouth.

"Haz."

The word is magic, transmuting me into something more than I've ever been. Something stronger, better, braver, and more worthy.

My fingers dive through her silken hair, pressing her to me so I can plunder her mouth, tasting her again for the first time.