Read Online Alien Prince: (Bride of Qetesh) An Alien SciFi Romance by Juniper Leigh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Juniper Leigh
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clothes I’d set aside for her, as well as a basket that contained a brick of soap and some natural moisturizer, and set out the front door of the dwelling.
When she did not immediately follow close at my heels, I stopped and turned my head just enough to register her in my periphery. “Is something the matter?” I demanded.
“I am not used to all this…nudity,” she said, her voice shaky. “I’m a little uncomfortable.”
“I will not look at you,” I said. “You have my word.”
This seemed to do the trick, and in a moment’s time we were headed off toward the freshwater pond I used for all of my washing. The day was bright and clear, the pond was cast in shadow. I gestured toward it, holding the basket out to her so that she could pluck the soap out of it as she passed me. She did, and mumbled her thanks.
I heard the tall grass rustle as she passed through it, heard the water sing upon her entrance. “You can look at me now,” she said, and I did.
She had submerged herself fully, her black hair heavy with the water, and had begun to lather herself with the soap I’d given her. She was stunning — a water nymph like from the stories of our pantheon. “What?” she urged. I’d been staring.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, and turned away.
“You might as well make conversation with me,” she insisted, “since we did just spend the night in the same bed together.”
I harrumphed my displeasure, but obliged her all the same. “I was thinking only that you remind me of a nymph or a siren,” I said, and felt ridiculous immediately thereafter. “Never mind. The notion is absurd.”
“No, no,” she called out to me, shifting slightly in the water as she washed herself. “There are such stories in human mythology as well. The sirens call to sailors, and seduce them into drowning.”
“That seems a fitting end for someone who spends their life on the water.” She laughed, and the sound was like music. “Why is that funny?” I asked.
“Are you afraid of water, Calder?”
“I am not. So long as I can touch the bottom.”
She smiled at me. I didn’t know that I was smiling back until she said, “You are very handsome when you smile. You have dimples, did you know that?” I frowned.
“Have you finished yet?” I asked. “I hunger, and there are fresh berries and oats waiting for us at the dwelling.”
“Not yet,” she said and began to lather her hair with the soap. “You should get in with me,” she said, and quickly amended her statement. “I mean, if this is your usual bathing time.”
“It is.”
“I do not mind.”
“I shall be fine, thank you.”
“Not if we’re sharing a bed again tonight,” she insisted. I wondered, suddenly, if I stank. Surely not when I bathed only yesterday. I turned my nose toward one shoulder and sniffed. No, I smelled fine. Did I not?
Grumbling and suddenly self-conscious, I set the basket down and untied the drawstring that held my linen pants up on my hips. “Avert your eyes,” I commanded, and she did. When I was satisfied that she was not looking at me, I let the pants puddle at my feet, and sloshed quickly through the water, accidentally splashing her like a small tidal wave as I moved.
“I would use the soap when you have finished with it,” I said, giving her a deliberate scowl. She held it out to me, all sudsy and frothed, and I took it, careful not to let it sink to the bottom of the pond. She disappeared under the cover of the water for a moment and when she emerged again, her hair was free of the soap she’d used to clean it. “May I ask you something?” she sputtered as she wiped the water away from her face.
“If you must.”
“What made you leave Larandi?” She wiped her hair out of her face and floated slightly toward me as I made my best attempt to discretely lather my body with the bar of soap. “And, furthermore, how did you come to be without a mate?”
“These are very personal questions.”
“I realize
When she did not immediately follow close at my heels, I stopped and turned my head just enough to register her in my periphery. “Is something the matter?” I demanded.
“I am not used to all this…nudity,” she said, her voice shaky. “I’m a little uncomfortable.”
“I will not look at you,” I said. “You have my word.”
This seemed to do the trick, and in a moment’s time we were headed off toward the freshwater pond I used for all of my washing. The day was bright and clear, the pond was cast in shadow. I gestured toward it, holding the basket out to her so that she could pluck the soap out of it as she passed me. She did, and mumbled her thanks.
I heard the tall grass rustle as she passed through it, heard the water sing upon her entrance. “You can look at me now,” she said, and I did.
She had submerged herself fully, her black hair heavy with the water, and had begun to lather herself with the soap I’d given her. She was stunning — a water nymph like from the stories of our pantheon. “What?” she urged. I’d been staring.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, and turned away.
“You might as well make conversation with me,” she insisted, “since we did just spend the night in the same bed together.”
I harrumphed my displeasure, but obliged her all the same. “I was thinking only that you remind me of a nymph or a siren,” I said, and felt ridiculous immediately thereafter. “Never mind. The notion is absurd.”
“No, no,” she called out to me, shifting slightly in the water as she washed herself. “There are such stories in human mythology as well. The sirens call to sailors, and seduce them into drowning.”
“That seems a fitting end for someone who spends their life on the water.” She laughed, and the sound was like music. “Why is that funny?” I asked.
“Are you afraid of water, Calder?”
“I am not. So long as I can touch the bottom.”
She smiled at me. I didn’t know that I was smiling back until she said, “You are very handsome when you smile. You have dimples, did you know that?” I frowned.
“Have you finished yet?” I asked. “I hunger, and there are fresh berries and oats waiting for us at the dwelling.”
“Not yet,” she said and began to lather her hair with the soap. “You should get in with me,” she said, and quickly amended her statement. “I mean, if this is your usual bathing time.”
“It is.”
“I do not mind.”
“I shall be fine, thank you.”
“Not if we’re sharing a bed again tonight,” she insisted. I wondered, suddenly, if I stank. Surely not when I bathed only yesterday. I turned my nose toward one shoulder and sniffed. No, I smelled fine. Did I not?
Grumbling and suddenly self-conscious, I set the basket down and untied the drawstring that held my linen pants up on my hips. “Avert your eyes,” I commanded, and she did. When I was satisfied that she was not looking at me, I let the pants puddle at my feet, and sloshed quickly through the water, accidentally splashing her like a small tidal wave as I moved.
“I would use the soap when you have finished with it,” I said, giving her a deliberate scowl. She held it out to me, all sudsy and frothed, and I took it, careful not to let it sink to the bottom of the pond. She disappeared under the cover of the water for a moment and when she emerged again, her hair was free of the soap she’d used to clean it. “May I ask you something?” she sputtered as she wiped the water away from her face.
“If you must.”
“What made you leave Larandi?” She wiped her hair out of her face and floated slightly toward me as I made my best attempt to discretely lather my body with the bar of soap. “And, furthermore, how did you come to be without a mate?”
“These are very personal questions.”
“I realize
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