“Going somewhere wife?” echoed through Rachel and over her like finger nails on a blackboard. She clenched her hands, counted, unclenched them, and counted again. Anger, wrath, and angst barely described the emotions throbbing and percolating waiting to explode. Her volcanic interior flashed red, gold, and black as ash spewed off the parts she fought to cool. Keeping control mattered.
Rachel pivoted on one foot, taking a deep breath as she did. Tyburn’s arrogance rankled her no more. She knew the importance of standing up for herself. Aggressive behavior and thoughts lead to more pain and anguish from actions not taken. Assertive edged close to its rival, aggression. She knew one easily fueled the other. Time to face him was upon her. It was him or the bloodily nauseating color scheme on the one door out of their shared suite. She knew his pristine blue eyes raked over her, searing the air between them with his desire. What about her needs and wants? Why in Soltren had the gods and goddesses deemed them perfect partners? Mates that could birth a dynasty to rule. . .she never wanted to rule. No one listened to her until Nelson. This time Tyburn would listen. His ears would blister under her screeches and mockery until he listened. Heard and saw her for perhaps the first time in several rebirths.
Rachel raised her gaze, inch by inch, taking in the male lounging against the wall closets to the main exterior window illuminated by the rising sun. Gold outlined him as if it were an extension of him. His hair shined, reflecting the two-toned color of the rays haloing around him. Her eyes inched higher until his gaze equated hers. She licked her lips, shook her hands, and walked toward him. One step at a time, she moved closer. She willed her thoughts to concentrate on what she needed to say and not what her scalding molten inside wanted to spew forth. No matter the state of her mixed emotions, communicating her needs and wants matter first and foremost. Tyburn might hear them the hundredth time she screamed them at him. Except this time, he would hear them the first time and not verbally reply until she knew he understood and accepted her terms.
She stopped two feet from him. Going toe-to-toe did no good. His height forced her to look up at him. His favorite position to quote him. Next time he desired on her knees deep throating him, she’d show him the self-preservation tactics she knew. Maybe if she grabbed a handful of his balls, squeezed more than what he liked, his attention might focus back up in his head instead of his idiotic pea brain lodged in his cock. Rachel pasted her best predatory grin on her face and spoke, “Yes, I’m going somewhere. First though I’m invoking your silence vow.”
Tyburn opened his mouth to retort. Rachel’s hand flew up. “Stop, as your consort and wife…” Goddess she hated that word. So full of possession and demeaning, depending on the tone accompanying it. She inhaled quickly, exhaled and continued. “I’m claiming my right to silence you until I’m done with what I have to say and I invoke the right to keep you silent afterwards. I know your valet is here as well as your secretary.”
Tyburn pushed off the wall nodding. He pointed to his right, motioning with his hand in the same direction. Two servants wearing the royal sunburst insignia on their clothing moved to where she could see them. Something didn’t seem right. He was acquiescing too easily.
Happy Weekend Gang!
Wow Pris didn't let us down! Tyburn and Rachel are back. Things are heating up even more. Will Tyburn keep his cool? His silence or . . .who knows? Pris grins and keeps on nodding when I ask if there's more to come.
Fall colors are appearing more every day. Cooler weather is making its way into the fabric of the year. From all of us here at the Spice Homestead to you and yours, Happy Fall! Remember to share a good book or two with your spice and loves. I will!
Until next week,