“Awww, no baby—you don’t have to sleep there!” Bard protested.
Tiny chose that moment to poke his long nose into the room. When he saw the small female curled up in the middle of his big bed, he came over and nudged Makenna, whining uneasily. Probably, he could sense her distress, Bard thought.
“It’s okay, boy,” he told Tiny, going over to the dog bed himself. “She’s just a little…confused. Here, Makenna…” Gently he helped her sit up. Then he took the shirt from her hands and held it up with the neck hole open. “Going to put this on you now,” he told her. “Put…on…Makenna,” he added, hoping she would understand.
Apparently, she did, because she raised her arms obediently to let him drop the shirt over her head.
Bard tried not to look at her full breasts, tipped with those ripe nipples, as he slipped the shirt over her arms and head. Gods, he wished she wasn’t so beautiful—so damn tempting!
It’s not her fault—it’s yours for being tempted in the first place, he scolded himself.
As expected, his shirt was much too big for her. The white fabric puddled in her lap, the neckline drooping low to show the firm swells of her breasts, her dark nipples poking against the thin material in a way that reminded him of how his own shaft was still tenting his sleep trousers.
Damn it, stop looking at her! he commanded himself.
He rose from his crouch and beckoned to the girl.
“Makenna come with Bard,” he said, motioning with one hand.
Obediently, she got up and followed him. Bard led her to the guest bedroom, right beside his own, and pointed to the big bed. Like his own bed, it had been meant to hold three people—two of them Kindred warriors—so it truly was massive.
Makenna climbed into it, looking even smaller in contrast. She slipped under the covers and turned on her side, facing away from him. Bard felt his heart contract. Damn it, he didn’t want to hurt her but he couldn’t possibly do what she seemed to want him to do!
Not knowing what else to say, he walked to the door of the room and flipped off the lights.
“Good night, Makenna,” he said, his voice low and gravelly in his own ears.
Then he shut the door and left her there, alone in the dark because he didn’t know what in the Seven Hells else to do.
10
Makenna lay on her side in the enormous bed which seemed to have been made for giants. She had never felt so small and alone in her life, she thought. Well, except maybe the first night she’d spent at the Pleasure House. But as she lay in the big Kindred bed, her mind was consumed with the very same thoughts she’d had then.
What’s going to become of me? How can I survive this? What is he going to do to me?
And there was a new question, which tormented her more than any of the others: Why doesn’t he want me?
Could the big Kindred tell that she was damaged goods? Did he not want her because of that?
But his shaft stood up! It got hard for me twice—as hard as the Trolloxs’ got when they were about to take a girl at the Pleasure House!
The thought made her shudder. But the Kindred didn’t look like a Trollox at all below the belt. His shaft was still quite large and it seemed to have a kind of swelling near the base, but it didn’t have any warts or bumps and it wasn’t greenish gray like a rotting yinga plant either.
Bard’s skin was dark tan, a color a few shades lighter than her own creamy brown, and while his chest was hairy, the rest of him was smooth and muscular and his shaft was long and capped with a broad head that Makenna wanted to touch for some reason, though she had never wanted to touch a male’s shaft before.
It’s my ripening, she thought dismally. It’s coming on even faster than I thought. If he won’t take me—if he won’t at least help me, I’m not going to survive this!
A girl’s first ripening could be a matter of life or death, which was one reason why it was so vitally important that she find the right man to help her by the time it began.
Well, I found him, Makenna thought sadly. I found him, but he doesn’t want to help me. Doesn’t even want to touch me! He wouldn’t even let me sleep in the same room with him, in the little bed at the foot of his. Instead, he sent me in here to be all alone, away from him.
The thought made her feel so low and rejected that she felt tears pricking her eyes again. She curled herself into a tighter ball and tried to force them back, tried to ignore the throbbing in her nipples and pussy where the ripening was affecting her the most. At least the spreader inside her kept her from The Emptiness—the deep and debilitating ache most girls experienced when their ripening urged them to be filled with a male’s shaft.