Their Wife

Chapter 6 - Good and Ready

Iris looked so peaceful when she was without consciousness.

Bloodied scratches adorned her sun-kissed face, some of them just deep enough to paint trails of red over her edged cheekbones. The waves of enflamed hair draped like spilt wine across our bright furs and her plump lips were slightly parted as if she was about to sing.

Just as I wondered what they might feel like wrapped around my calloused fingertips, my train of thought got interrupted.

Thank the Lord.

"You got her good. She's completely out of it."

I grunted in response, there was nothing much to say. He better was happy I helped at all. Then again, I'd made a promise. And promises I always kept.

"Shouldn't she be awake by now?"

I felt my jaw tick.

His impatience was still getting the better of him, showing the true immaturity beneath his hardened exterior. Beaming blue eyes pierced me in barely contained excitement as his eyebrows lifted in anticipation for my answer.

"She'll wake up once she's good and ready," I said.

My gaze travelled steadily over Iris's limp body and across the setup in the room. A pot stood in the far corner for her to relieve herself in. On the table by the entrance she would find a water pitcher and a cup to hydrate herself. The sheep furs she was sleeping on were keeping her safe from cold's harm. She had everything she'd need.

There wasn't much that could be done now, except wait for her to wake, which would be a complete waste of time. This day was far from over. Too much work had already been delayed because of our early morning hunt and we best just got on with the broken day.

I was about to sound a reminder of our duties when he surprised me by slowly lowering himself to the cold, hard ground, right beside Iris's peaceful shell. It didn't take me long to figure out what had caught his attention. The torn skirt had ridden up, revealing pale flesh in tempting invitation.

A test of the Lord, I thought, certainly. 

He failed it undeniably when he drew his hand across the relaxed muscle of her upper leg, seemingly admiring the lifeless limb.

All I could do was watch as it disappeared beneath the folds of the ragged fabric. My body tensed, or had been tense for a while, I just suddenly noticed how tightly I clasped my fists. I felt uncomfortable, and that annoyed me.

We had shared so much together, him and I. Our whole lives we had none but each other to confide in when things got tough, when they got out of hand. I trusted him as much as I mistrusted him and that was as good as it could get for someone like me.

Then why made his roaming hand me so uncomfortable? This wasn't the first time he was probing up a lass in front of me. God, I'd seen worse. Much worse.

No, it wasn't the act in itself. It was the woman. It was because he had chosen her, of all the female folk he could have had, he had chosen Iris.

The picture of her defenceless body, splayed out before me, resembled every bit the fantasies that had usually pooled when I had observed her, only the other man's presence disturbed its perfection. 

A pathetic part of me wished to swap places with him right then. To explore Iris's captivating presence with my own itching hands, to find out for myself how far she could be pushed before she broke, before she begged and screamed, but I was quick in drowning my arising desire before it was able to override my already degenerative state of mind.  

Iris wasn't mine, and would never be.

"Work won't do itself," I spat out with final authority and left the cell with long strides, finding myself somewhat relieved when I heard the echo of his reluctant steps behind.

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Hi Reader-ling,

This chapter has been kept short because anything else didn't feel right. I wanted to make it longer, add a little more about our antagonists to it, but I ended up deleting it all again. Just felt good the way it was.

Maybe you agree, maybe you don't. I'm always keen on constructive criticism.

darksuns