Page 8 of The Second Marriage

Sejun stood there in the flickering candlelight, watching Taral upend the empty bowl on top of the altar to end the ceremony. Given that they had already bonded, this ceremony was an afterthought, and Sejun felt none of the sacred awe he had anticipated. He only felt uncertain and somewhat drunk.

A mattress had been laid out for them on the dais. Even in these modern times, it was understood that they would most likely want to lie together after the wedding was complete. Sejun saw Taral’s eyes drift toward the pile of bedding on the floor, and the bond flared with Taral’s emotions, his determined courtesy overwhelmed, in a searing rush, by bitter regret.

Sejun’s stomach felt heavy as a stone. Nothing had changed, then, in the days since Taral’s heat. He was only being polite. He had no desire for Sejun and took no delight in their bond or their marriage.

“Sejun,” Taral said, his eyes on Sejun’s face now. Then he stepped forward, took Sejun’s hands again, and leaned in to press his mouth to Sejun’s.

The kiss was their first. Somehow they had gone through Taral’s entire heat without kissing once. Taral’s mouth was soft and dry, his kiss a gentle press of his lips before he drew back again.

That was no kind of kiss. Taral’s uncertainty slithered through the bond. Sejun cupped his jaw, leaving a red stamp on his skin, and kissed him again, gently but persistently until some of the stiffness eased from Taral’s posture. Sejun pressed his advantage. Taral’s mouth tasted of wine, and he participated in the kiss in a way Sejun hadn’t dared to hope for. Taral pressed closer, his hand settling at Sejun’s waist and his fingers curling behind Sejun’s belt. He opened for Sejun’s tongue and let out a soft sigh as Sejun took what he wanted.

The memories of Taral’s heat throbbed between them. Taral’s scent rose from his skin, warm with stirring arousal. Sejun couldn’t resist stroking his fingertips along Taral’s neck, teasing behind his ear where the scent was strongest and caressing the sensitive dip above his collarbone. Taral gave another sigh and broke the kiss, turning his head aside to bare his neck.

Possessive hunger flared to life in Sejun’s gut. He seized Taral’s invitation and bent to suck biting kisses along the line of Taral’s throat, smelling Taral respond to him and sensing his desire through the bond. Taral’s heart might not want Sejun, but his body did; his body knew that he was Sejun’s now.

Taral gave a soft cry as Sejun sucked hard at his neck, so Sejun repositioned slightly and did it again, intending to leave a mark, a bruise from his mouth that would last even longer than the red dye from his hands. Everyone who saw Taral for the next week would know that Sejun had made his claim.

Was it the wine that was making him feel this way, or the bond, or simply that Taral was an omega? Sejun had never before felt any urge to possess a lover. But his gut ached with the need to make Taral his.

Taral didn’t seem to mind. He clutched at Sejun’s belt and panted as Sejun parted the neck of his robe and slid the fabric back over his shoulders. The scent of his body rose from his skin and filled Sejun’s nose, leaving him dizzy.

“Where will your handprints show on me?” Taral asked in a low voice.

“Anywhere you like,” Sejun replied, and was thrilled when Taral used his grip on Sejun’s belt to pull him toward the mattress.

Untying Taral’s belt was the work of moments. Sejun opened his robe and gazed down at him, shadowed in the dim light with his cock straining against his belly, gleaming at the tip. His dark nipples stood tight in the cool air. The smell of his arousal was more intoxicating than the wine.

“Are you only going to look,” Taral said, reaching for Sejun’s belt.

As soon as Sejun’s robe was open, Taral drew him down into his arms. They lay pressed together, skin to skin, with Taral’s face tucked into the crook of Sejun’s neck and his arms around Sejun’s back. Sejun shifted his hips until his cock lay alongside Taral’s, deliciously crushed between their bodies.

“My alpha,” Taral breathed into Sejun’s shoulder.

If he was trying to provoke Sejun into madness, he would succeed. Sejun kissed him roughly, one hand gripping Taral’s hair, and Taral made a high-pitched noise and parted his thighs around Sejun’s hips. He was wet there, sloppy with it. Sejun couldn’t knot him now, outside of heat, but the base of his cock throbbed anyway as he thought of how tight Taral had been around him and how he had moaned when Sejun’s knot swelled.

He slid a hand through the wet cleft of Taral’s ass, smearing his fingers with slick, and used that to coat both of their cocks. When he rubbed himself against Taral there was no friction, only a toe-curling glide. He moved in a slow grind, again and again, until Taral’s head fell back and he moaned.

Yes: that. That was what Sejun wanted, Taral limp with pleasure, his one hand draped over Sejun’s shoulder, the other loose and open on the mattress beside his head. Taral offered no resistance. He was Sejun’s to take, Sejun’s to please and honor. Sejun wanted to wring one orgasm from him after another until Taral could do nothing but tremble and whimper, and then Sejun would flip him over and fill him with a huge, hot load.

His ambitions outmatched his stamina. The bond overwhelmed him with the hot blur of Taral’s pleasure. Taral was also somewhat drunk and had nothing in his head but delight in Sejun’s scent and the heavy weight of him bearing Taral into the mattress. His foot slid down the back of Sejun’s calf as his body tensed, his orgasm building despite his languid posture. Sejun couldn’t withstand the dual assault of Taral’s body beneath his and Taral’s arousal pouring through the bond. When Taral cried out and spilled, Sejun followed not long after, his hips jolting helplessly as he pumped his spend across Taral’s bare skin.

They lay slumped and sticky. Taral huffed quietly and slung one arm around Sejun’s neck. “Well,” he said.

Sejun reached down to grope Taral’s hip and thigh, no doubt leaving red smears everywhere he touched. “Even in the old days, I think you would pass muster.”

Taral laughed. “Yes. I imagine I would.”

Sejun smiled against his skin. Here was his way forward. Taral could be as coldly polite and distant as he wanted; Sejun had seen that beneath that lay a hot undercurrent of desire and need. He might offer no encouragement, but that was fine. Sejun would just have to seduce him.

CHAPTER5

The dowry train arrived without fanfare. Taral watched from the roof of the citadel tower high above the throne room as the distant carts wended along the road toward the town. There were far more than he had expected, each one bearing a flapping banner in Tadasho’s colors.

He went down to Iniya’s solar on the top floor of the tower, where she spent much of her time. She and Abiral were lingering over breakfast as the children played nearby. Iniya held out a plate of food as Taral came down the stairs from the roof and said, “Have you spotted them yet?”

“They’re on the road into town. I’ll go out to meet them, I suppose.” That was properly Iniya’s duty, but she had a fresh cup of tea steaming on the floor beside her and there was no chance of her leaving the solar before noon. Taral fought down his disgust. Iniya would never change, and getting angry about her shortcomings was as futile as cursing at the rain for falling on a festival day.

The sky was gray with low clouds that threatened rain now. Taral passed through the gate and found the outer courtyard empty aside from a single retainer sweeping the flagstones. It was no secret that the dowry was arriving today; Merek lay a short distance to the east, and a messenger had come the day before to say the train was ready to depart in the morning. Yet none of Sejun’s family had bothered to come out to greet their own people, and even Ujesh, who ran the household, was nowhere to be found.