The thought was so frightening that Allara almost lost her nerve.
Quickly—I must do this quickly or I will not be able to do it at all!
She must get him to ram himself inside her before her will to complete the mission dissolved completely—but in what position did such things happen? Suddenly, she remembered her aunt mentioning the canis at play. Allara had seen them several times, the male behind the bitch, as though trying to climb onto her back. Maybe that was how these things went.
Taking a deep, shivering breath, she turned and got to her hands and knees. Spreading her legs wide, she presented herself and waited for her new husband to jam the huge shaft she had seen pulsing between his thighs into her tight, untried sex.
I must bear it, she told herself grimly. No matter how much it hurts, I must bear it!
While she and Brand were “slow-dancing” the prospect had not seemed quite so scary—possibly because his Song and his scent were both working on her at once. But now he was no longer humming to her and she could no longer smell his scent, as she was facing away from him. Her body—which had felt warm and pliant, almost languid with need before—was now cold and stiff. She shivered, tense and unhappy, as she waited for the inevitable.
“Allara? Baby?” Brand’s deep voice sounded uncertain, as though he was questioning her actions. “What are you doing?”
“I…I am preparing to receive you, my husband.” Allara turned her head to look up at him and saw the quizzical expression on his face. Would he never get on with it? “I am open for you,” she made herself say. “You may take me now as…as a man takes a woman.”
“Allara,” he began, putting one big hand on her back.
“No!” Allara couldn’t help herself—when he touched her bare skin, she jumped away, scooting across the bed as fast as she could. It was as though her body acted without her brain—instinctively rushing to get away from a threat.
She huddled in the top right corner of the vast bed, the wooden headboard cold against her bare back. Knees pulled up to her chin, she fought with herself.
Stop it, Allara—what’s wrong with you? Stupid girl! Go back to him and offer yourself again at once! The voice in her head once more sounded like her aunt’s.
Allara answered it desperately.
I can’t—I don’t want to! I don’t want him in me—he’s too big! I don’t want to bleed! she thought wildly. Why can I not just kill him? Why must I let him hurt me first? Why—
“Allara? Sweetheart?” Brand’s deep voice cut through her chaotic thoughts and she looked up to see that he was just standing there, hands outspread as though he didn’t know what to do.
“For-forgive me, husband,” she stuttered, barely able to get the words out because she was trembling so. “I…I know I must give myself to you. And I will—I swear it.”
She forced herself to go to him then, though it was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. Crawling on her hands and knees, she came back to the big Kindred and forced herself into the canis’ position again.
“Take me,” she whispered hoarsely. “Only please, husband—make it quick.”
“Allara, no.” The bed dipped and she looked over to see that he was sitting beside her, an unhappy look on his handsome face.
“N-no?” She shook her head, not understanding.
“No, I won’t take you this way. I won’t hurt you.”
“But you must!” Allara exclaimed. There was a sob in her throat that was trying to get out but she swallowed it down. “If you do not, I cannot…then we are not properly married,” she finally choked out.
The big Kindred got up and she was certain that now he would finally do it—now he would take her as her aunt had told her he would. As all husbands took their wives on the first night of their marriage and any time they wanted after that. It was her duty to hold still and permit it.
Allara’s heart started careening against her breastbone. Trembling all over, she curled her hands into fists and forced herself to keep her legs spread, waiting for his attack.
I must do this. I must do this. I must do this!
The thought ran through her head in a loop, over and over and over again.
I must—
Something soft dropped over her back.
Allara gasped and opened her eyes, which had been squeezed tightly shut. A soft blue blanket, several shades lighter than her hair, was covering her—hiding her nakedness and shame. Looking up, she saw Brand standing there, a look of infinite tenderness and compassion in his golden eyes.
“Allara,” he said softly but firmly. “Wrap up in that. We’re not going to do this tonight.”
“But…but we have to!” she exclaimed.
And burst into tears.
Twelve
Brand’s heart was breaking. The sight of his new bride, curled in a ball and sobbing, was ripping at his soul. He wanted to touch her—wanted desperately to hold her—but he didn’t want to frighten her anymore than she was already frightened.
Slowly, he sat beside her on the bed and put a hand on her back. She flinched at his touch but at least this time she didn’t run away. Her shoulders were shaking as he rubbed her back in long, soothing strokes.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he murmured softly. “It’s all right—everything is going to be all right.”
“No, it’s not!” She turned her face to him and he saw that her lovely features were pinched into an expression of internal turmoil and agony. “I must do this,” she whispered, seemingly to herself. “I must do this! Oh Gods help me—I must!”
“No, you don’t! Really, you don’t,” Brand told her earnestly.
Unable to stop himself any longer, he gathered her into his arms. She stiffened for a moment, then melted against him, sobbing as though her heart would break.
Brand held her close and rubbed her back, soothing her as though she was an upset child. He thought he had some idea of what had brought this on. Clearly her people had some kind of custom or ritual about having sex on the Joining night. But just as clearly, Allara was frightened to death by the prospect.
So she feels obligated to offer herself to me, but at the same time she’s so scared she can hardly breathe, he thought. In fact, her breath was coming in hitching gasps and he was afraid she might hyperventilate.
“Easy, Allara,” he murmured anxiously, cuddling her in his lap. “Easy, sweetheart—breathe—just breathe.”
“For-forgive me,” she gasped, swiping at her eyes and looking up at him. “I am so sorry. I will…will give myself—”
“No,” he cut her off sternly. “No, I told you, we are not making love tonight.”
“Make…love?” She looked at him uncertainly.
“I will not be…taking you tonight,” he amended, since that seemed to be all she understood. “Not tonight and not for a long time to come, all right?”
“But if you do not—”
“Don’t worry about us not being ‘properly married’,” Brand told her firmly. “A good Joining—a good marriage—is about mutual love, respect, and trust. How could you ever trust me again if I did something to you that you feared so much on our very first night together?”