Reborn in the Age of Human-Beast Marriages novel · Chapter 3 of 12
Chapter 3: Wedding Night
The next day, I spent the hours roaming his house with a basket of herbs, talking to the servants who wouldn’t talk to me.
By nightfall, I’d done three things.
I’d emptied and cleaned out the apothecary room that no one had used in twenty years.
I’d learned the cook’s name.
And I’d decided I wasn’t going to wait another night.
Baltasar hadn’t touched me again.
He brought me breakfast on a tray, asked if I was sleeping well, accompanied me to the garden, and kept two steps away, watching me with clenched fists.
By the third hour of the afternoon, I couldn’t look at his hands without imagining them on me.
That night, after dinner, I went up to my room, washed my face, took off my dress, and put on nothing but a linen shirt.
I went out into the hall barefoot.
His door was at the far end.
I knocked twice.
“Come in.”
He was sitting in an armchair by the fire, shirtless, with a closed book on his lap.
When he saw me, the book fell to the floor.
The firelight played over his broad chest, chiseled stomach, and shoulders covered in old scars.
“Eloisa.”
“I didn’t come here to talk.”
I closed the door behind me.
I walked toward him slowly.
He stood up.
His height made me look up at him.
“You told me you wouldn’t touch me until I asked you to,” I said.
“Yes.”
“I’m asking.”
He closed his eyes.
“Say it again.”
“Touch me, Baltasar.”
He opened his eyes.
They were completely golden, with elongated pupils.
He took me by the waist and lifted me against his chest.
He kissed me.
It wasn’t the shy kiss from the night before.
It was a deep, hungry kiss, years in the making, his tongue exploring me as if he could learn everything about me.
I wrapped my arms around his neck.
My feet left the floor.
He carried me to the bed without breaking the kiss, laid me across the covers, and stood over me, watching.
“I want to see you,” he said.
I took off my shirt.
I lay naked on the sheets, the firelight dancing across my skin.
He drew a deep breath through his teeth.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever...”
“Hush,” I said with a smile. “Come here.”
He took off his pants.
His cock was thick, long, already hard, and I stared at it with a dry mouth.
He climbed onto the bed carefully and kissed my ankle.
My calf.
The inside of my knee.
My thigh.
Each kiss sent the heat rising a little higher.
When he reached between my legs, he licked me slowly, from bottom to top.
A moan escaped me, echoing off the stone walls.
“That’s it,” he murmured against my skin. “I want to hear you.”
His tongue found my clit, circled it, and sucked it with cruel patience.
I buried my hands in his black hair. Its ribbon came loose, and it spilled through my fingers like silk.
He slid two fingers inside me, slow and thick.
He curled them upward.
I came almost without warning, with a cry, my back arching.
He didn’t stop until he’d drawn another shudder from me.
When he moved up my body, his mouth was wet and his eyes were black with desire.
“I’m ready,” I said.
“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“I’m bigger than any man you’ve ever been with.”
“I hope so.”
He laughed, low and rough, the sound of it shaking his chest against mine.
He settled between my thighs.
I felt the tip of his cock against my entrance, hot and slick.
He entered me slowly, without rushing, inch by inch.
He stretched me, filled me, opened me until I held my breath.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered.
He kept going until he was all the way in, then went still, trembling, his forehead resting against mine.
“Eloisa.”
“Move.”
He began to move.
Slowly at first, with long, deep thrusts.
I gripped his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his hips.
Each thrust drew a different moan from me.
The bed creaked, the fire crackled, the wind battered the window.
He caressed my face with one hand, brushed my hair aside, and kissed me during every pause.
“Look at me,” he asked.
I looked at him.
His eyes were fixed on mine, bright, his fangs barely visible behind his lip.
“I see you,” I whispered. “I see you, Baltasar.”
His breathing broke.
He moved faster.
He gripped my hips and thrust into me hard, no longer holding back, hitting the exact right spot.
I cried out his name.
I cried out for him not to stop.
I cried out that he was mine and I was his.
He growled, a deep, animal sound that raised goose bumps on my skin.
His nails lengthened for a moment against the sheets, tearing the fabric.
He stopped, ashamed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t...”
I took his hand and pressed it against my chest.
“Don’t hide from me.”
He hesitated.
Then, slowly, he let his claws emerge and ran them with infinite gentleness along my side, without scratching me.
My whole body broke out in goose bumps.
“Again,” I said.
“Again what?”
“Be who you are. All of you.”
He thrust into me again with a new, unrestrained strength, and the bed slammed against the wall.
I came, my legs trembling, with a sob of pleasure.
He followed seconds later, burying his face in my neck with a muffled roar.
I felt him empty himself inside me, hot, in long pulses.
We lay there, panting and holding each other as the fire died down.
He kissed my temple.
"I don't want you to leave."
"I'm not leaving."
"Sleep here."
I snuggled against his chest.
His heart beat strong and slow, like a mountain drum.
I slept.
The next morning, I woke to a knock at the door.
Baltasar pulled on a pair of pants and went out.
He came back with a white envelope sealed with gray wax and an expression I already knew.
"It's from Aldana Tower."
I opened it.
It was an invitation to dinner that very night, written in neat, rounded handwriting.
"We look forward to raising a glass to our marriages. With love, your sister."
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