Raven's Watch [m] α

She did not want this.
She wanted her husband.
She was not a child anymore but she remembered being the girl who would let herself become so deeply smitten, believing it was safe. She dreamed of marriage. She dreamed of sex.
Ayovi could not stomach the idea of wild man forcing himself on her. She glances away as he nears, feeling a great flush of shame rip over her face at having been desperate to believe so much of him in the first place. He was a man. He speaks and she knows it’s hardly innocent. His breath is wet on her neck. A familiar twinge of sick runs through her and she fights to suppress it. She had known only the initial touches between man and woman.
But the huntress had not yet felt what heat the band wolves spoke of. She did not yet know longing in the waves of air. Nothing would come of it. Nothing could come of it—
He’d sully her! How could any husband want her after that? But would he let her go? Would it be enough to grant her safe passage?
She wouldn’t have to carry his children— it could be a moment quickly buried. She would never have to speak of it again. No one would have know—
“After,” she swallows, “will you let me go?” Her eyes do not lift from the snow, too ashamed to look fully into either man. Her mind is in the North.