Clans of Luteri Ch. 06

-From Chapter 5--

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Kane reached into his pocket and set it on the table, stopping him.

"I found that in the Corsaire's things," Kane said.

Jaime looked at it. He slowly picked it up, examining the ornate detail.

"This is a Luterian oath bracelet," Jaime observed.

"Yes. The Corsaire's name is Aslin," Kane said. "She is Aslin of Tavishi, daughter of the Corsaire High Lord. She is my wife."

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Clans of Luteri

Chapter 6

Jaime stared. He opened his mouth and closed it.

"I'm sorry?" he said.

"When I purchased the Corsaire," Kane said, "she brought a small trunk. I found a Luterian oath box inside and the oath bracelet."

"An oath box?"

"It is where Luterians keep a bracelet when the oath has been made but the couple are too young yet to live together."

Jaime looked at the bracelet on the table.

"I don't understand, Kane. Emma is your wife?"

"Aslin, the woman upstairs, is my wife."

Jaime shook his head. Kane sighed and got up, walking and standing in front of the window, his back to Jaime. He spoke in Luterian. Jaime would understand what he said. The servants didn't need to.

"When I was a young man, my father came to me one day and took me walking in the mountains," Kane said. "He told me he had a visit from Kavini, the Corsaire high lord. Kavini had seen a way to end the three-hundred-year blood feud between our clans. As the only son of the Tavishi High Lord, I would marry Aslin, the only daughter of the Corsaire High Lord. She was only five years old at the time, and I was nineteen."

Kane paused, thinking about that time, when he hadn't been so full of hate. When he had fought for honor and not just for vengeance.

"What was done to done to Maele hadn't happened yet," Kane continued. "What was done to Helene hadn't happened yet. I was different. My father didn't say I had to do this, but I knew what it would mean to my clan. I admit marrying her didn't appeal to me. I was young and we are long-lived, and the idea of being bound to a woman I hadn't chosen, from a clan I hated, never able to love another, was like a prison sentence to me. We don't break our oaths. My father knew what he was asking. But I agreed."

Jaime was quiet, letting him tell the story.

"She was a pretty child with big dark eyes and long dark hair in a blue ribbon. I met her for the first time on the day of the ceremony. She gave me a white flower from the Corsaire gardens and she said, 'I am Aslin, Kane of Tavishi.' They had obviously told her to say it. I don't think she understood what was happening, she was far too young. The ceremony was conducted and I gave my oath. The Shai priestess brought the oath box, and her bracelet was put in it until she was of age, her mother taking it, since my mother was dead."

Kane turned and sat across from Jaime again, taking up the bracelet and turning it in his fingers, looking at it. He set it down again.

"Two months later," Kane continued, "Maleen, Kavini's oath, and their daughter, Aslin, went on a boat on the lake at Corsaire Hold. High Lord Kavini wasn't there. The boat was found hours later, drifting, upended, empty. It was assumed mother and child had drowned. Their bodies were never recovered."

"You never told me you had given your oath. You never told me any of this," Jaime exclaimed.

Kane shrugged.

"What was there to tell? That I had once given my oath to a five-year-old girl who drowned?"

"What happened after that?"

"Nothing, at first. I think that neither side wanted to return to killing one another. Maybe the peace would have held, but a Corsaire took Helene during festival and hurt her in a way Luterians don't hurt a woman, regardless of feud or clan."

He had never told Jaime what he had done to Bevin of Corsaire in retaliation. The fact that he hadn't wanted his friend to know about that told him how much he was not proud of it.

"What was done to Helene shamed Corsaire. The Corsaire High Lord, Kavini, delivered the man, bloody and beaten, to the Tavishi gates, a last attempt to avert violence, but it was too late. I had felt sad that the pretty little Corsaire girl had drowned. Sad I could not even give my young oath's body to Shai's fire. And ashamed, maybe, that I felt relief, too. But after Helene, and then Maele—Shai forgive me, I was glad for her death. I have been full of such hate. Maybe if I had not believed my oath had died, things would have been different. Maybe these terrible things could have been averted."

"I'm sorry, Kane," Jaime said quietly.

Kane nodded.

"Aslin says she was six years old when she came to the orphanage," Kane continued, "that she doesn't remember anything before that time except a woman singing a Luterian cradle song. Someone took her from me, Jaime. Someone took the girl to whom I had given my oath and made it look like she had died, and then they brought her across the sea, the last place anyone would look, and abandoned her here."

"That is why you have been courting her," Jaime said, realizing. "You've just learned she is your wife under Luterian traditions."

Kane gave him an exasperated look.

"I have said so. Aslin is my oath, Jaime, my wife, as you would call it. She has been my wife for fifteen years. Tavishi will see it that way. Corsaire will see it that way. All Luterians will see it that way. The very existence of this bracelet proves it. It has both our bloodlines written on it. I didn't know she was alive and now I am ashamed to have carried on with other women when I thought she had died."

"You didn't know, Kane."

"And that will see to my dishonor and absolve me of it, but I will find out who did this terrible thing and give my oath justice. So now you know, and you do not have to worry anymore that she is in danger from me or from Tavishi clan."

Kane stood up, putting the oath bracelet in his pocket.

"Where are you going?" Jaime said.

"To talk to my oath."

But despite what he had said to Jaime, from the bottom of the stairs to the top of the stairs, Kane changed his mind. He had meant to go in and wake her, to talk with her when he started at the bottom of the stairs, but by the time he had reached the top of the stairs he was thinking of the day before, of his oath's breasts, her nipples, of the feel of her silky thigh under his hand, the perfume of her scent, the pulses under his fingers as she climaxed. He suddenly saw no reason to wait, none at all.

Regardless of her experiences with Lord Montrose, she wanted him. Luterians didn't see this the same way as Alverians. Kane didn't blame her that she had been forced to do those things, that she'd been sold to him, didn't see her as dirtied or shamed as Jaime did. It was something that had been done to her, not anything she had done, and it certainly didn't change who she was to him or how he felt about her.

He had only been worried she would be made cold to sex by it, and that's why he had taken her to the grove. He had been very pleased she was so passionate. Now he thought he might learn if she'd be willing for him to join her in her bed for more than sleeping.

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Emma was asleep. She followed the sensations. Her nipples, and then another touch lower. She stirred and opened her legs a little, wanting more, her breathing quicker. Something was pressing and circling between her legs. She felt a deep twinge, the same in her nipples. She pulsed on the touch, a wave of pleasure. She spread her legs more.

She opened her eyes. Kane was directly over her, his arm propping himself by her head, his cruel, beautiful face, his hair falling across his cheek. His chest was bare. All of him was. His fingers were on her sex. He had slipped his hand inside her undergarments, rubbing delicately.

He dipped to take her nipple in his mouth, scraping with his teeth. She arched with the sensation. He withdrew his hand and knelt, straddling her, taking the straps off her shoulders and pulling her chemise straight down, her bloomers following, off her feet until she was completely naked under him.

He straightened over her on his knees, his eyes roaming all over her.

"Your eyes are so dark, Corsaire, that sometimes they look black," he said, his voice hoarse. "But between your legs is like warm honey."

He leaned down and kissed her mouth, no part of him touching her except that. He left her mouth and went to her throat. She couldn't help it, tilted her head back, offering it. He made a deep sound. She realized he wanted to do sex with her again.

Then his mouth was on her nipples and she lost all sense of time and place, the tugs and pinches, his teeth and tongue doing such things to her, his fingers still touching below. She was moving against his hand. She kept offering her nipples, not even hearing the noises she made, not wanting him to stop even after it hurt. The pain was pleasure, too, her thoughts confused, between her legs throbbing.

Then his fingers left her and his whole body moved down, his tongue on her belly, his hands gently spreading her legs. Lower. She could feel his hot breath on her inner thigh. She didn't know what he was doing and then it occurred to her as he spread her with this thumbs and licked her with his tongue straight up the center of her and to that place that was so sensitive, circling it. She went rigid, hearing herself as his mouth came down for another taste, and again, more circles with his tongue.

Emma closed her eyes, her head falling back, pulling her knees up, moving against his mouth. She could hear herself crying out softly with the pleasure, Kane's tongue bringing such sensations. She tried to get closer, pressing against his mouth as he began sucking gently there. All the feelings were coming to a single point, behind it a wave so huge it would drown her. His fingers went to her nipples and pinched hard.

She cried out, her sex against Kane's mouth, her back arching and her legs spreading even more. He didn't stop. It was still happening, just the first straining. It built and built. She whined, squirming with it, and then it finally broke and she heard herself give a series of small cries as she pulsed against his mouth, pleasure and more pleasure.

He came up and was kneeling between her legs, stabs of sensation still. He grasped her hips and flipped her onto her belly, her hair all around her face. He raised her hips and kneed her legs apart so her bottom was jutting into the air. She felt something between her legs, at her opening, something nudging her, large and hard. A wave of wanting went through her, tilting her hips, offering herself.

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The Corsaire tilted her ass to him, spreading more, a clear offer. Kane's cock was aching, fully erect, her scent in his mouth as he licked his lips, musky, the taste making his head spin. He positioned himself against her pussy, pausing for a moment to savor the look of her, her round ass, her tiny waist above, delicate back and her dark hair all around her, obscuring her face, a glimpse of her jaw and cheek, pale skin.

His eyes shifted. Her little pink cunt was still pulsing a little with her pleasure, slick with her arousal, his cock at her entrance. Corsaire, that clan's women known for their beauty, yes, but also for how much they loved to fuck, the rumors of their passion for pain always so arousing to him.

He hadn't known if the Alverian lords would have spoiled this pleasure for her when they brutalized her. Kane had been willing to go as slow as she needed, to see her through it, but her body's responses were clear. The smell and taste of her told him she was ready. Kane's treatment of her nipples, her arousal at his continued roughness and her encouraging motions, asking for more, told him how much she liked it, and that she was in every way Corsaire.

He recognized that his lust in part came so strongly because typically she would be forbidden to him entirely. Behind his attraction to her, even despite it, was the erotic undercurrent that came from the confused idea of all Corsaire turning into this beauty under him so that he could fuck his enemy.

And this act was the most forbidden of all, entirely taboo, for a Tavishi to fuck a Corsaire female, and with that wonderful, filthy thought he thrust into her as she invited him to.

Tight. Shai, the Corsaire's cunt was so tight. He pulled back and pushed again, digging into her wet resistance, opening her, sliding in, the sensations sharp. It was hot pleasure, feeling every bit of her. He wanted more.

Lust tinged his vision as he put a hand on her back, gaining a better angle, deep sounds from her as she cried out into the mattress, then cried out again as he began thrusting into her. He was larger than typical, and for a moment he wondered if he would fit she was so small. He dropped his weight partly on her, coming down on his own elbows and wedging himself against her ass for purchase, stabbing into her more deeply, such hot pleasure.

The sounds she made were muffled as he pumped deeper, closing his eyes for the sensation. The Corsaire fit him like a glove, so wet but the dragging on his length was incredible. He abruptly seated himself in her all the way, his hips meeting her ass, her cunt rippling down his length. He gave a satisfied grunt, barely hearing her as she gave a series of sharp cries into the mattress. He thrust more fully into her. She was rising against him, squirming, every movement increasing his excitement. It felt so good he lost all sense of himself. It was almost painful she was so tight.

He came up on his arms and looked down and between her legs where he was thrusting into her, wanting to see it, panting and grunting with the pleasure of it. There was blood on her thighs. A sense of himself returned, the haze lifting a little, and his eyes flickered to her face, covered in her hair. He stilled himself in her, difficult, reaching a hand and pushing her hair back to see her. Her eyes were closed tightly, her face twisted in pain, tears on her face.

A virgin. Shai, she was a virgin.

Kane froze for a long moment. Then he carefully pulled out, lifting himself off, and stood, looking down at her. She rolled on her side into a ball, curling up, putting her hands over her face, hiding from him. He was still breathing hard, trying to take it in.

He leaned down and put his hands underneath her knees, her shoulders, turning her and picking her up, sitting with her, putting her on his lap sideways, her dark hair spilling over his arm. She put her hand around his neck and buried her face in his throat, shaking.

"I'm sorry to hurt you, Corsaire," he finally said. "I didn't know that you haven't done this before or I would have been much more gentle."

A great many things were coming together. Her manner at Lord Montrose's estate. The way she had reacted to seeing him naked the first time. Things he had said since that she hadn't seemed to understand. The way she was raised, the isolation, these indifferent protectors. He stared at her. A thought occurred to him.

"Who was the first man to kiss you ever?"

"You," she answered low.

That first morning when he'd insulted her, a hateful act. That had been her first kiss. He looked down at her curled up naked on his lap, delicate shoulders and knees and bare feet.

"You were sold to me as a whore so that I could do this to you, have sex with you. That's why I thought you had done this before."

She stared at his face and then looked down. He couldn't see her expression. When she looked up again he realized, with a sinking in his gut, that she was shamed, deeply so.

"I know. I'm sorry I cried, Lord Tavishi. It hurt very much. I know you have paid for me, and I will try not to...in the future, not to—," she began and her face crumpled and she closed her eyes, turning her face into him, tears leaking again.

He realized he might have made things much easier on himself, and on her, if he'd explained they were married first so she wouldn't think exactly what she did right now.

Now wasn't the time to tell her about the marriage. She was upset enough. And he needed time to think about how to best proceed from here. He'd misunderstood, her innocent passion now evident to him, so arousing, but definitely he needed to think about it before he did the next thing.

He reached and stroked her hair. She was still crying. She didn't move, didn't open her eyes, and gradually her face lost its tension. Her body followed, relaxing against him, her wrist going limp by her face. She was asleep. He stood with her, her weight light, putting her back in the bed.

She curled up on her side again. He went to the basin, pouring water, getting a cloth and cleaning himself. He returned to her, cleaning her gently between her legs, the blood on her pale thighs dried. She didn't stir as he put the covers over her.

Kane went to the stables. The stallion nickered as he entered, putting his huge head over the door. Kane brought his body close, the stallion leaning his head against his chest, their most affectionate thing, and he reached up to scratch the places Shaol liked.

He cleaned the stall, giving Shaol fresh hay and grain, the work soothing him, giving him a way to think while moving his body. Lenore had put everything away neatly. He patted the warhorse on the shoulder, closing the stall and going to the pump to wash his hands and wipe his boots free of dust with the rag there.

When he was done, he walked back to the house, running his hand through his hair distractedly.

He needed to speak to Jaime, and he needed to speak with Jaime about sex, and unfortunately they always had difficulty with this topic. Trying to understand how Jaime viewed sex was like trying to find your way through a maze that was actually a big circle. You just went round and round.

And while Jaime was an open-minded and very intelligent person, he was still Alverian, which meant he was shy speaking about sex openly. It was like talking to a twelve-year-old at times, Kane had to be so careful. He had to be subtle, to ease Jaime into the discussion. He wasn't looking forward to it.

He found Jaime in the library with a cup of tea, reading. Kane sat down across from him, waiting as Jaime set down his book, carefully marking his place and giving Kane his attention.

"I've had sex with the Corsaire," Kane said to him.

Jaime's brows peaked and the man suddenly wouldn't meet his eyes, blood creeping into his cheeks. Jaime tried to hide his reaction, leaning to take a sip of tea.

Kane sighed.

"I didn't mean to surprise you, Jaime," Kane said patiently. "I hope it is not new information to you this happens in a marriage."

"Of course not, Kane. It's just a great deal to take in all at once," Jaime said, one of those phrases he used that was nonsense when in actuality he was trying to avoid a conversation.

Kane shifted restlessly, turning and stretching one leg out in front of himself. He needed Jaime to talk to him about this. It was important.

"Does the word fresh mean something else in Alverian?" Kane asked.

"Well, I suppose it depends on to what one is referring, but the meaning is not different in Luterian."

"What about if it refers to a woman?"

Jaime's eyes lit and he coughed lightly, his mouth twitching.

"In Alveria, the term is used in a vulgar way to describe a virgin," Jaime answered.

"Well, it doesn't mean that in Luterian. It seems a strange use of the word, don't you think? It makes me think of bread," Kane said irritably.

"Where did you encounter the word used in this way?" Jaime asked him, his mouth twitching.

"Lord Montrose used the term to describe the Corsaire when he was selling her to me. Evidently the price Lord Montrose set was also for her virginity. She was untried."

Jaime stared at him blankly and then he understood and then he looked embarrassed—predictably—and then saddened for some reason, as if Jaime had accused the Corsaire of something she hadn't done, like she'd had any control over any of it. Kane would never understand how Alverians viewed this issue.