Elli didn’t know and she didn’t care. At this point, she had become a creature of pleasure—wanting only more and more of Roke’s big, warm hands on her body, cupping her breasts and tugging her nipples…

“I say—do stop it, you two! Supper is over.”

The Duke’s voice cut through Elli’s moans and she realized, with mortification, that she was the only female still writhing under her partner’s touch. Everyone else was rising and putting on their shoes and stockings.

Looking up to the golden dais, she saw that it was empty—the Crown Prince and his Bride for the Night were gone.

“Where…where did the Prince go?” she asked breathlessly as she sat up and reached for her slippers.

“Off to the Royal Bedchamber, of course,” the Duke said matter-of-factly.

“Really? But we only had soup and fruit,” Elli protested—not that they’d had much of either course. “Is Supper always so short?”

“The length of Supper depends entirely upon the Crown Prince and his carnal appetites,” the Duchess told her.

“Lately he’s been quite randy,” the Duke remarked. “I can’t remember the last time we got through four courses together—let alone five. However…” He shrugged. “Don’t worry if you didn’t get enough. Any of the servants will be happy to bring as selection of victuals to your bedchamber. Just let them know what you want.”

“Although it seems to me that what you two most want is more of each other.” The Duchess gave Elli a knowing smile.

“Oh, no! We don’t…that is, we wouldn’t—” Elli began but the Duchess only shook her head.

“Don’t worry, my dear—Mirroring can often have that effect. Especially when you’re new to it.” And she hooked her arm through the Duke’s and winked knowingly. “Goodbye. We’ll see you tomorrow, I’m sure.”

Then, arm-in-arm, the Duke and Duchess swept out of the large Supper room.

“Well…I guess we’d better get going,” Roke growled, reaching for his boots.

“I…I suppose so.” Now that they were alone together and not being forced to touch each other, Elli found herself feeling shy and ashamed of the way she had acted. Why had the big warrior’s touch driven her so crazy when she wasn’t even drugged? Why couldn’t she control herself when she kissed him?

She had no answer to either question, so she followed Roke silently out of the room as they headed for their own bedchamber.

Twenty-Two

“You all right, sweetheart?” Roke cast the curvy little priestess a sidelong glance. She’d been silent ever since Supper had ended so abruptly and now it seemed as though she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

“Fine.” Ellilah looked down at her hands. She was sitting on one of the firmer cushions, picking at the selection of fruit Roke had ordered from one of the palace servants. But though she had professed to be hungry when he ordered it, she had scarcely eaten two bites.

Roke shook his head. He was sitting across from her—on the floor, not a cushion—so they could be more eye-to-eye.

“No, you’re not fine—not even halfway fine,” he said, frowning at her. “We’re partners here, Ellilah—you need to be honest with me and tell me what’s bothering you.”

She looked up, her green eyes flashing.

“Nothing’s wrong with me!”

“Bullshit!” Roke growled. “You’ve barely said two words since Supper! And when you do talk, you can’t even look me in the face. You’re moping around like a guilty convict about to face execution so tell me—what’s wrong?” He dropped his voice slightly. “Is it trying to tame the Prince’s zorel tomorrow? Is that what has you all tied up in knots, sweetheart?”

“Of course not!” Elli sounded exasperated. “Why would I be worried about a zorel? It’s…I just…” She shook her head, her jaw clenched as though she was trying to think how to say something. “Did you drug me again?” she burst out at last.

“What?” Roke stared at her blankly. This was the last thing he would have expected. “Drug you?” he asked, frowning. “Why would I drug you? And what would make you think I had?”

“The way…the way I reacted to you.” Ellilah sounded almost desperate. “When you kissed me and…and touched me. I was…I was shameless.” Her voice dropped to a whisper of self-recrimination. “Utterly shameless.”

Roke shook his head.

“So because you reacted when we were kissing and I was touching you, you automatically think I drugged you?”

“Well, I was acting and feeling the same way tonight that I was at the humans’ Christmas party!” she shot back. “What other conclusion am I supposed to draw?”

“Maybe the conclusion that you’re a normal, healthy female with normal sexual appetites,” Roke suggested.

“No, I’m not—I’m a priestess!” she cried passionately. “I’m not supposed to be susceptible to the sins of the flesh!”

“We weren’t sinning,” Roke said, frowning. “Not exactly, anyway. We were doing what we had to in order to keep from being kicked out of that fucking Tenebrian Last Meal ritual.”

Tags: Evangeline Anderson Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net