Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Hunger's Harmattan, Unknown [best ebook for manga TXT] 📗

“My kind doesn’t sleep very well,” he toldher.

“Well, try,” she ordered. “If you’re tobeat Tariq in a swimming contest, you need to be at your best!”

* * * * *

Ailyn sat down on the shore of Lake Brizaand shook his head. After five tries, he now knew there was no way he’d ever beable to best the Prime Reaper in swimming or diving. Tariq was a veritabledolphin with the grace and power of that commanding creature.

“Cheer up, ehemann,” Shanee told himas she laced her arm through his and leaned against his shoulder. She loweredher voice. “Your cock is bigger than his.”

“I’ll remember that the next time I getinto a pissing contest with him,” Ailyn grumbled, petulantly tossing a stickinto the bubbling waters of the lake.

“And there is something else to remember.”

“What?” he snapped.

“You have me and he doesn’t.”

Ailyn glanced at her. “Aye, well, there isthat,” he conceded, and lay down on his back with his knees drawn up, hisbreechclout covering that part of his anatomy Shanee knew he kept hidden fromeveryone else’s eyes.

The sun was warm and most of the villagerswere cavorting in the lake. Those men from R-9 who had yet to test Tariq’sreassurance that the water would not harm them lazed about the shore lookinglongingly out over the dark blue depths of the lake.

“What is it again they call going naked?”Shanee asked.

“Sky clad,” he replied. He had laced hisfingers over his taut belly and was staring up at the leafy branches abovethem. “Why?”

“They are so beautiful,” she said. “Sostunningly perfect.” She was watching the men and women who were notself-conscious about their nudity. Many of the concubines who had come to Theristesto mate with the Reapers had embraced the habit readily.

Ailyn lifted his head and looked in thedirection his lady was staring and grunted, lowering his head once more. “Stoplooking at that warrior’s cock or I’ll relieve him of it. He won’t be sobeautiful or perfect then.”

“Jealous?” she teased, stretching outbeside him.

“Of that puny dangly?” he scoffed thensnorted. “Not gods-be-damned likely.”

“Isn’t it true that it isn’t the size ofthe weapon but how a man wields it that matters?” she countered as she trailedher fingers up and down his bare arm.

“I suppose so if you prefer a blunt paringknife to a well-honed dagger,” he replied.

They were quiet for a moment then he turnedhis head to look at her. “I am nearing my time to Transition, ionúin.When the day draws near, I will go back to the cave and you will stay here.”

“Why can’t I go back with you?”

His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.“Because I never want you to see me like that, Shanee. Never. I hate what I amwith every fiber of my being. I loathe this demoness within me. Every time Ifeel Her move, another part of my soul dies. It is an ugly, evil thing I am andI will not have you seeing me in that way.”

“You are not evil,” she said, herfingers wrapping around his biceps. “You are not what is inside you, Ailyn.”

“You have no idea what I am,” he said. Hesat up to plow a hand through his wet hair. He grimaced, tugging at the lengthhe was beginning to hate with a passion. He said as much to her.

“All right,” she said with a sigh, andscrambled to her feet.

“Where are you going?” he called out.

“For a pair of scissors,” she muttered.

He tossed his wet tresses behind him,circling his knees within the perimeter of his arms as he watched Tariq andBahiya playing in the water. He wished he could be as carefree as Tariq andmany of his fellow Reapers, but he could not seem to find the solace they haddiscovered on Theristes. He turned to look at a few of them.

Cristiano was an artist and he was paintinga canvas of two lush women reclining naked beneath a tree. Damian was also anartist but he worked in wood, carving the most intricate and realisticfigurines Ailyn had ever seen. Both men did superb work and were much soughtafter by the villagers.

He looked the other way at Gregory who lovedto entertain the children—all little boys—with his sleight of hand that amazedeven the adults. Joshua was an acrobat and never failed to have a crowd ofspectators cheering his nimble moves. Marcus was an artist like Cristiano andDamian but his expertise was in fashioning complex knotwork that was trulyspectacular.

Ailyn sighed. The men he was watching hadsomething they could do, some contribution they could make to the village.He—on the other hand—had no skills other than his swimming abilities and thewarrior tactics that had graduated him at the top of his class at the Academy.

“Okay,” Shanee said as she came back andplopped down behind him. “How short do you want it?”

He mentally shook himself, burying histhoughts and the memories of his first Transition. “What?” he asked.

“How much do you want me to cut off?”

“To here,” he said, putting a hand to thenape of his neck. He twisted his head around to give her a warning look. “Youaren’t going to butcher it are you?”

“You never know,” she said, and put herhand on the top of his head to turn it away so she could put the scissors tothe heavy, wet mass.

“I don’t want to look like Jared,” he said,staring at the man whose hair looked as though it had been frothed with aneggbeater then pomaded with glue.

“Then you’d best be nice to me this eve,warrior,” she told him.

“I’ll stick my fingers so deep inside you…”

“Hush!” she said, her face flaming for twomen were walking close by and had heard him. They turned to give her anappraising look.

“Eyes ahead or you’ll lose them!” Ailyngrowled at them. He flinched as the scissors clicked together and he felt hisshorn hair fall down his back. He swallowed, hoping she wasn’t going to takeher embarrassment out on him. As more hair fell—one long tress over his shoulder—hepicked it up and looked at it, twisting it this way and that like a switch.

“Sorry I’m cutting it?” she inquired.

“I’ll let you know when I see