The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland #2)(38)

If I was truthful, there was a lot of it that was interesting. The fruit juice, food and even wine were all delicious. The dancing was manic and strange but fun to watch. And clearly Lahn’s people were having a good time. This was my first celebration where I had it in me to pay attention so I didn’t know the normal vibe but it seemed everyone was very happy, joyous even. And a lot of those types of looks were thrown in Lahn and my direction indicating a great many people believed the legend of the Golden Dynasty was coming true and a future of promise lay before them.

And, I had to admit, it didn’t feel crap in the slightest that people rained flowers on me.

That said, I was not wrong and I knew I was scorching under that hot sun and although Lahn often got up to wander the top of the dais, chat with the man in robes, warriors who came forward or other men who approached, I was not allowed to do so and since my husband could not communicate with me and since he was in warrior king mode he didn’t try so a lot of the time I was bored out of my freaking mind.

The sun had long since set and I was glad for it. Lahn had just offered me wine and it was the third sip in a row he allowed me to refuse. After that heat and it being hours since I had any water, I needed alcohol like I needed a hole in the head. I had been sitting all day but I was exhausted. I needed to get to the cham, figure out how to communicate to the girls I needed a cool bath and then I needed to figure out how to get the f**k out of this place.

I lifted my heels to the seat, wrapped my arms around my legs and pressed my cheek to my knees, doing all of this carefully so as not to aggravate the tightness of my skin but doing it because night had fallen, a chill had hit the air and against my burning skin that chill was freaking chilly. Then I turned my unseeing eyes at the dancers.

Then they blinked as what my eyes were encountering penetrated my distraction and my head came up. Then it turned away because I had seen a painted warrior with a woman who was wearing a short sarong, not a long one like mine and all of the other women I had seen while in that world. The back of her sarong was at her waist, she was bent forward, he was behind her, she had nothing but his hands pounding her h*ps into his groin to keep her up and they were fornicating.

Fornicating!

On the dance floor!

Diandra called it sordid?

I’ll say sordid. Good God!

My eyes swept the scene and I noticed something I hadn’t noticed before. Most of the crowd had moved the revelry amongst the tents. The front of the dais was taken up now by painted warriors and a lot of women the type I’d never noticed before. Skimpy bandeau or halter tops (if they had any on at all!) and short sarongs, bare feet, very painted faces, wild hair.

And I knew that the celebration had changed. This part was for the warriors and these women were not wives or brides. They were something else.

And there were a lot of warriors, enough that at least some of them had to have wives.

Seriously, I needed to get the f**k out of there.

“Kah Lahnahsahna,” Lahn called and I turned my head to him. “Vayoo ansha,” he ordered, his voice quiet, his head tipping to his lap.

I stared at him, my heart lurching.

“What?”

“Vayoo ansha,” he repeated with another dip of his head to his lap.

Oh God.

I didn’t move, just stared.

He leaned toward me, his fingers curled around my elbow, gliding down to my wrist at the same time pulling my arm away from my legs. Once he had it extended to him, he lifted it high and repeated, “Vayoo ansha, Circe.”

Fuck. He wanted me to come there.

My concern was… why?

Hesitantly, I slid my heels off the throne, let my legs go and got up. Lahn didn’t let go of my hand and kept it lifted high until I was standing in front of him. Then his hand released mine, both of his came to my h*ps and he pulled me forward, not so I was sitting in his lap but so my knees were in his throne at either side of his h*ps and I was straddling him.

Shit, shit, shit.

Luckily, I’d been able to use my sarong to shield my legs from the sun but my current position still wasn’t comfortable because his horns had no pads and they were hard and rounded, digging into my shins.

He tilted his h*ps down and reclined against the back of the throne so my privates were resting on his and his hands slid from my hips, up my back, pulling my torso closer.

Shit!

When his hands were between my shoulder blades and my face was close to his, he spoke to me softly saying something I didn’t understand.

“You know,” I replied, “I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

He tipped his head to the side, his mouth twitched then he spoke some more.

When he stopped, I informed him on a shake of my head, “Nope, didn’t get any of that either, big guy.”

“Big guy,” he muttered, his mouth twitching again.

That was appealing, I had to admit, but not so appealing I could forget he was a huge dick.

I looked over his shoulder.

“Circe,” he called, one hand gliding down my back, the other one going up to curve around my neck and I looked at him again.

“Yes?”

He said something else, it was soft, it was gentle, it went up at the end in a question and if that didn’t do it, his brows went up too.

But all I felt was his hand that had lowered to cup my ass.

Dear Lord, I hoped he didn’t think I would engage in what was happening all around us.