a Pleasure Rites, #1 by Ines Johnson (top ten books of all time TXT) 📗

"It was better than I imagined," she said. "I'd imagined it was how souls would communicate, if our souls had their own language. No words of meaning, just sounds to make you feel what they are trying to convey."

She saw Khial visibly relax. His hands stopped in the act of putting his instrument away. His head cocked to hear her.

"That's probably a silly thought," she said. "You can't write music."

"Yes, you can," Khial finally spoke.

"Really? I've never seen a language for music."

Khial set the instrument down and grabbed some papers on a stand before him. Chanyn saw black sticks and circles written on the lined papers. She'd seen something like this before on the shelves of her home, but she'd never deciphered the language, assuming it was something very ancient.

Khial turned to her with papers in hand, his face open to her for the first time. Chanyn's heart sped up. Khial was a very handsome man. His brown forehead was high, calling to regal ancestry. His brows strong. His jawline sharp and angular. His lips so sensual when relaxed and not scowling.

Chanyn knew she stared, but she couldn't help herself. The thought of being mated to this man, having his powerful fingers on her body, those sensual lips on hers. She felt herself moistening between her legs.

And then Khial narrowed those aristocratic brows at her and frowned.

Chanyn crossed her exposed thighs, certain he could tell what was going on down there.

"What have they done to you?"

Chanyn jerked her head up. Her hands going across her chest, and then her middle. She didn't understand. Last night she'd looked like a dead skunk. She was sure she'd embarrassed both Dain and Khial in front of their family. Now she looked like the women they were accustomed to.

"Wh-what's wrong with me?" she asked.

Khial glared at her, his face, open and vulnerable less than a moment ago, now closed and locked with a scowl. He reached behind himself and set the papers back on the stand.

"There you are."

Dain's voice came from behind Chanyn and she turned, glad to be out from under Khial's scowl. When Dain saw her, he stopped in his tracks.

Chanyn ran a self-conscious hand over her hair and then crossed her arms in front of the exposed curves of her breasts. She wanted to cross her legs as well to hide her flesh within the slits.

Dain approached her and gently unwrapped her hands, pulling them from her breasts. "You look exquisite."

Chanyn let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her face split into a wide grin.

"They've made her look like your mother," said Khial. "That's sick, Dain."

Dain looked skyward as though calling for patience. "Ignore him. You look stunning," he told Chanyn. "And my mother was a stunning woman," Dain shot over his shoulder. He pointed to a portrait on the wall. "That's her there."

"That's your mother?"

The woman in the picture was indeed stunning. With golden hair, tanned skin and a seductive smile. She looked like the pictures of the heroines on the covers of Chanyn's novels. Chanyn couldn't imagine the family "difficulties" that could befall a woman like her.

"She was a pornographic actress," Dain said.

Chanyn's eyes widened. Even living out in the wild, she understood the implications of that title. Chanyn had seen books on pornography. Women splayed open for the enjoyment of men. Chanyn preferred reading her paperback novels to looking at the hardcover pictures. The women beneath the hardcovers always looked as though they were aping their pleasure; bodies alive but eyes dead.

Not Dain's mother. In the portrait, her eyes lit with joy and mischief, much like her son's.

"It's not a respected occupation," Dain said. "My mother's work made my family very wealthy, but she didn't do it for the money. She wanted to find a way to share her pleasure with the less fortunate. The men of the world who would never know the touch of a woman."

Dain paused and waited for Chanyn to turn to him. When she did, she noticed the defensive set to his jaw.

"She wasn't a whore," he said. "She only performed with my fathers."

Chanyn caught sight of Khial across the room. His brow raised in anticipation, as though waiting for her to make a mistake.

"She's very beautiful," Chanyn told Dain. Then she looked over at Khial whose brow lowered and scowl increased. "Thank you for the compliment," Chanyn told Khial.

Khial's head jerked back. She could've imagined it, but his scowling lips may have quirked up in the slightest hint of amusement.

"How long ago was this painted?" Chanyn asked.

"About a year before she died," said Dain.

"But she's so young."

"Yes," Dain nodded. "She died in an... accident. Along with both my fathers."

There was a slam and a loud click. Khial fastened the lock on his violin case. He turned without looking at either of them and left the room. The brief, warm camaraderie left with him.

When Chanyn turned her attention back to Dain his head was bowed, his eyes closed. A second passed. He raised his head and the dismayed look was gone. His eyes were bright, the brilliant smile in place once more.

"I wanted to discuss something with you, Lady Chanyn." Dain led her to a dainty sofa. "The decision to come here means that your life will change in many ways."

"It already has," Chanyn smoothed the material of her new dress as she sat.

"You do understand that women are scarce in the world. I know that your mother didn't agree with our ways, but you will be pressured to take a pair bond."

Chanyn nodded. Her heart speeding up once more.

It appeared that Dain misread her look. Concern etched his beautiful face and he took her hands in his. "Chanyn, no one will ever hurt you. It is not only sacrilege to hurt a female, it’s illegal. There's nothing to fear."

"I'm not afraid. I don't want to be alone anymore. I want to be in a bond."

He smiled at this. "You are no longer alone.