Forever The World of Nightwalkers - By Jacquelyn Frank Page 0,83
never been unfaithful to Hatshepsut.” He smiled a little. “That’s not to say she hasn’t occasionally over our lifetimes found a woman she’s thought I would like and brought her into our bedroom as a gift to me.”
Marissa gasped and flushed hot, indignation rising in her eyes. “I would never do that!”
“Never is not a word we use when we can potentially live hundreds of years in our mortal bodies … barring outside interference of course. And we come from a time when multiple wives were commonplace. We’ve been through every single sexual evolution and revolution known to mankind. What we’ve done here is blunt and rudimentary. And you’re being very narrow-minded, Marissa. You’re far too educated to start pretending you don’t understand these things. And I assure you, if she does not have permission of her host, she wouldn’t push or try to change the host’s mind. Well”—he smiled a bit wolfishly—“not much anyway. She can be quite persuasive when arguing a point. Rather a lot like you. And she loves opportunities to put me in my place. Also a common trait between you.”
That made her smile and laugh. “So she’s convincing, kinky, and bossy.”
He laughed as well. “In a nutshell, yes. But she’s also incredibly kind, fierce when it comes to protecting her people and her family, and plays a mean game of chess.”
“You make her sound so human,” s to make me feel … have betterhe said with a sigh. “But the truth is, she just isn’t. And I don’t know if I can be all the things that she is. A queen? A Bodywalker? Your … your …”
“Wife,” he said in a soft word. “We’ve been married over two dozen times, by everything from a priest to an island native that stomped and danced for the gods to take notice before playing a tune on a nose flute.”
“Oh stop, now you’re joking,” she cried with a laugh, pushing at his chest in reprimand.
“I am not joking,” he said almost seriously. “It’s the truth. All of it.”
She stopped smiling and turned pensive. “So, you’re telling me that if I become Hatshepsut’s host, then you’ll want to marry me.”
“As long as we all think it’s agreeable, then yes.”
“But you didn’t seem like the marrying type,” she hedged, her fingers smoothing her skirt down again even though it hadn’t budged from the initial time. He was beginning to realize that her need to keep a perfect image at all times was like a protective armor for her. She was probably feeling very vulnerable right then, talking about difficult things without her armor on. It could very well be the reason why he’d never seen a single sign of a dating life from her in the two years she’d been on the force.
“I’m with Menes on this one,” he told her quietly. “I’m waiting for the right woman. No one else will do.”
“If I say no, then someone else will have to do,” she said a bit sharply. “I don’t see Menes giving up after the first try fails. You either for that matter. You’re as tenacious as that dog of yours.”
“Well, at least you’re forewarned.”
“About what?”
“My tenaciousness. I’m not the sort to give up easily, Marissa. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you say yes to me.”
Her expression was one of pure consternation. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that if you push too hard it makes people shove back?”
“I’m sure they did somewhere along the line. I think I disregarded it.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed this time shoving at him harder.
Marissa wanted to be mad at him. She wanted to push back, push away and run. It was just too overwhelming. All of it. Everything he wanted from her was just asking so much. He probably wouldn’t even be asking if he really knew who she was. She wasn’t queen material. She just … wasn’t.
“You’re incorrigible,” she said to him, unable to make it sound at all serious. She liked it when he teased her, although god only knew why. Just like she liked it when he acted like her hair was his favorite place for his fingers to be. And she damn well liked it when he threw her on the bed and took her like a man out of control with lust for her.
Oh yes, she liked that very much. Just like she was liking the way his fingers were drifting over her chest, tracing curling, lazy patterns over and between her breasts.