Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
He gives me a hard-eyed stare. “Because I’ll be teaching.”
I wait for clarification.
When none is forthcoming, I prompt him again. “Why are you falling apart in the next month?”
He shifts his feet, and I hear the creak of the floorboards under his hooves. His hands go to his hips and he leans in closer, and I catch the faint scent of…leather? Surely not. But whatever it is, it’s a good, earthy smell. I’m so distracted by the pleasant scent of him and his nearness that I almost miss his words.
“Don’t you know anything about Taurians?”
I blink, meeting his gaze. “Should I?”
“You’re the one who touts her guild knowledge all the time. You tell me.” He gestures at me with one impatient hand.
“To be honest, Taurians aren’t mentioned much in the books and pamphlets I’ve read.”
He snorts with annoyance. “Of course not.”
“So why is it you’re falling apart in the next month again?” I prompt. My thoughts are racing. Maybe that month will buy me time. Maybe I can convince another teacher to take me on if this one doesn’t plan on instructing for the full year. Maybe—
“I can’t speak of it,” he says, voice gruff. “You’re obviously educated, which means your family is wealthy. I don’t want some merchant coming to turn me into a saddle because I told his innocent daughter filthy things.”
My face grows hot and a forbidden little thrill zings through me at the thought of learning filthy things. The more he dances around this subject, the more I want to know what it is that happens in the next month. “I will have you know I am not a merchant’s daughter nor am I innocent. I am thirty and a spinster. You can tell me everything.”
Please, do tell me everything.
He runs a hand down his long muzzle and then tugs at the ring at his nostrils in a gesture that has to be pure annoyance. His hooves shift again, the floorboards creaking once more under his agitation. “I am a Taurian about to be surrounded by women on the eve of the Conquest Moon.”
“And…?”
I could swear his eyes grow wider. “Woman, how do you think Taurians procreate?”
My face feels scorchingly hot. Truth be told, what I know of procreation was learned from lurid novels that use words like waves of ecstasy and spellbinding pleasure and not much else. I bluster my way through it with confidence, as I do with everything in life. “I expect Taurians procreate about the same as everyone else, ahem, procreates.”
“We go into heat.” His voice is flat. “We rut.”
Oh my goodness. My tongue feels glued to the roof of my mouth and I stare up at him in fascinated horror.
“Every five years, all Taurians go into season at the Conquest Moon. Our lives become about sex. About fucking. About taking a mate. About holding her down and pushing—” He lifts his hands as if grabbing some unseen female and then just as quickly stops himself, recovering. “You get the idea.”
I’m still lost in the word rut. I stare up at him, imagining him looming over me and holding me down and then just…waves of ecstasy, I suppose. Heat is curling through my body in the most delicious way, though, and I feel I’m missing a key component as to why this is so very terrible. “And your wife, she won’t like that you have a class full of women when you’re in this moon rut?”
He paces away, and I catch a glimpse of a lashing tail before he stomps back to me, all frustration and intense eyes. “I don’t have a wife. That’s the problem. I don’t have an outlet for…that time. Now do you understand why this won’t work? You need a teacher and I’m going to be absolutely useless.”
“And Magpie—?”
The Taurian shakes his head. “Won’t be available to teach. Unless you’re asking if I’d rut with her and…no. Just no.” He shudders. “Now do you understand?”
“So…you need a wife,” I repeat slowly. “Because of this unfortunately timed moon.”
He huffs a frustrated laugh. “Sure, aye, a wife. I just need a willing woman, but a wife would be ideal.”
“This is perfect,” I tell him, thoughts racing with excitement. “You said I needed a chaperone, right? What better chaperone than my own husband? We can marry and solve both of our problems!”
The look on his face becomes utterly aghast, as if I’ve stepped into a pile of excrement. “You can’t be serious.”
I’m a little stung at his reaction. “I happen to be very serious. I need a husband and you need a bed partner. We can fulfill both of our needs.” I pause, raising a finger. “Does there have to be a baby? I’m afraid that would curtail my career as a guild artificer.”
“No baby. Just rutting.” He runs a big hand down his snout again and then meets my gaze. “You’re not seriously offering to have sex with me just to get into the guild school?”