Page 151 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
The words thus spoken, they gonged through the pluming mist.
Acting as if this wasn’t the be all and end all of revelations, Pete lifted a hand. “Then don’t, Shorty.”
If it were only that simple—
“If you dislike him, why would you honor such a betrothal?”
Because as heir to the dang throne, I might not have a frigging choice.
“Dislike is probably too strong a word to use.” I gazed past wisps of fog.
Man, the heavens were bright, the stars diamonds in the sky. Some streaked across my plane of vision into the rollicking waves of the auroramajesta—which grew more vivid by the night.
“Briarisa great guy,” I went on. “He’s smart. He’s funny. He’s fun. I mean, he’s got flaws, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t say I detest the guy. I just—”
How could I swim this quagmire?
“Do you fancy him?”
“Do you mean, ‘Am I attracted to him?’”
Pete’s expression was an unspokenobviously.
I chuckled, wistful for my girlish crush. “I always was.”
“Was? Has your opinion on the matter changed?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
Pete nodded. “Can’t blame you, Shorty. After hearing your woeful tale over supper, I’d say he shouldn’t either.”
I snorted, recalling how I’d almost ruined story hour’s merriment.
Humor welled in his molasses eyes. “When I’m so lazy with a toss, I expect to meet such disfavor.”
I appreciated Pete’s admittance of past laziness. Lazy nights happened here and there, I guessed. Yet, it would take more than one instance of laziness in bed for me to suddenly see the waggish man before me as unappealing. Likewise, I couldn’t say Briar’s cursory attentions were the sole cause of the new light I now viewed him in.
“Why the long face?” Pete nudged my hip. Maybe hedidknow he’d been wiggling against me.
I couldn’t meet his eyes as I peeped, “What if—what if my woeful first times weren’t woeful because of Briar? What if it was really me? What if I was the problem?”
“Don’t start lamenting on your looks again,” Pete groused. “If a bloke already has you on your back, you can rest assured that he finds you just dandy.”
Cheeks no doubt flaming, I giggled. “No, that wasn’t it.” For a change. “The problem was that I didn’t know how to tell Briar—to tell him what I liked—when we were doing stuff.” I fidgeted with my cloak. “I didn’t have the courage to speak up about it, I mean.”
After several silent beats, I dared to peek up. Pete’s habitual rakish charm had receded to rakish kindness. “Did he ask you what you liked, Shorty?”
I blinked. “No.”
“Then how could he expect you, a virgin, to know how—or even to feel comfortable enough—in conveying such intimacies?”
Valid point.
“Unless he was a virgin as well? Or telepathic?”
“Uh, no.” Briar would’ve been the oldest virgin in existence, and I knew for damn sure he couldn’t read my mind.
“Didn’t figure. Still an’ all, good lovers ask—especially during a deflowering.”
