Tammad the barbarian did not wait to be given. By the time he took me, I would have gladly given him anything, but it wasn’t in his nature to allow that. He took me with strength and sureness, aware that he possessed what was rightfully his. I raged at that thought as my body eagerly accepted his, and then I was drowned beneath a tide of maleness the likes of which I’d known only once before. I floated on the tide an unbelievably long time, but when it rolled out again, I lay panting and abandoned, the sheets rumpled under me, sweat soaking my body. Tammad stretched out beside me, completely satisfied, completely relaxed, and lazily toyed with my hair.
When I’d regained some of my strength, I looked over at him bitterly. He’d gotten what he wanted, and what I wanted simply didn’t matter. He grinned and tugged at my hair and I turned away from him, shame flooding my cheeks. He turned me back to him with little effort, and forced my face up toward his.
“Why does unhappiness continue to find you?” he asked, his voice gentle as his big hand held my face. “I know that this time you had pleasure at my touch, and I do not understand.”
“It’s not in you to understand,” I muttered, unable to move my face away from the sight of him. “I’m not like the women of your world! I’m an individual, a Prime! You have no right to treat me like this!”
“I have the right;” he answered in amusement. “Here—do to me that which I have done to you.”
He let go of me and lay back on the blue and white lace of the pillow cover, tucking his hands behind his head. I stared at him, at the trim, muscled, immovable bulk of him, and snorted.
“How the hell could I?” I demanded, sitting up and brushing my hair back over my shoulders.” Even you could see the difference between us.”
“Then you understand my right,” he said, continuing to lie stretched out. “I am able to do to you that which you cannot do to me. Ability provides the right.”
“I’ve heard that one before.” I said in disgust. “I still don’t subscribe to it, but I’m sure the people of your world do. Especially the men.”
“When was the time you visited my world?” he asked, eyeing me curiously “Which were the areas you traveled through?”
“I’ve never been to your world,” I answered, swallowing the urge to jam the heels of my hands into his unguarded stomach. “If I had the choice, I still wouldn’t be going.”
“But how, then, do you know my language?” He raised up on one elbow to study me. “Also, the customs of my world are familiar to you. Why should this be so?”
“It’s so because it’s part of my job.” I said, looking past him. “I know the languages and customs of every world known to the Amalgamation. When my services are required, there usually isn’t enough time for me to stop for a session with a teaching machine. You probably learned Centran at the embassy on Rimilia while you were waiting for transportation here.”
“You are correct.” He nodded. “I did indeed gain your tongue at the embassy. But if you have never been to Rimilia, there is much left for you to learn. I shall have to teach you the taste of my world.”
“I think the word you wanted was flavor, not taste.” I said, taking my own turn to laugh at him. “But speaking of taste, I’ve just realized that I’m hollow clear to my toes. I’m going to get something to eat.”
I scrambled over his legs to the white-carpeted floor, only then finding what had happened to my sleep suit. I picked it up and put it back on without looking at him, then left the bedroom. My private kitchen was just down the hall, and I got there as fast as I could. The last time I’d eaten was right after the Nervous Nellies Convention, and I’d had indigestion even before I’d started.
The chef, for some reason, was programmed for a dinner meal, so I changed it fast to the breakfast section and pushed the proper buttons. The aroma of lightly fried meela eggs almost killed me as the plate was delivered to the table in front of me, and I followed them rapidly with chemin sandwiches and grilled flatmock. A tall, cold glass of swed washed it all down, and made some room for a wedge of gerite cake. I had almost finished the cake, when I noticed that Tammad stood in the doorway with his arms folded, watching me almost in annoyance.
“You know little of the proper actions of a host,” he said when my eves were on him. “A Rimilian host feeds guest before self. You have not even inquired as to my needs.”
“You’ve been doing so well seeing to your own needs that it didn’t occur to me,” I answered, taking another bite of cake. “Did you really want something to eat?”
“I do,” he said, not moving from his place at the door. He hadn’t dressed again, but it didn’t seem to bother him.
“Then, by all means, help yourself,” I grinned, waving at the chef which he probably didn’t know how to operate. “I’ll be through in a minute, and then I’ll be going to dress. You’ll be able to eat completely undisturbed.”
“It was necessary to do so at the end of the last sun,” he said, coming closer to stand over me. “I felt your anger and your need for solitude and did not intrude upon it. Now the need is no longer with you, and I will have my dimral from your hands.”
I could see his expression clearly and there was no amusement left in his hard, blue eyes. I tried to take another bite of cake, but it wasn’t possible not with him staring at me like that. I put the eating prong down and cleared my throat.
“My chef’s run out of dimral,” I said with a faintness I found unnerving. “What’s your second choice?”
“You know well enough that dimral is meat,” he said stonily. “Any meat will do as well. Produce it now”
His voice was as low as it could be, he hadn’t threatened me in the slightest, yet I hadn’t the least desire to argue with him. I wet my lips with my tongue, turned to the chef, and dialed an extra large portion of roast pimond. The platter of pimond was on the table in no more than fifteen seconds, but Tammad didn’t reach for it. It took another fifteen seconds before I understood, then lifted it in his direction without looking at him.
“Truly, you have much to learn,” he said, taking the plate. “You may now leave to dress yourself.”
I stood quickly, furious that he dared to dismiss me in my own home. He paid no further attention to me, but went to the far wall and crouched down near it with his back toward it, put the plate of pimond on the floor, then raised the meat to his mouth.
“You might try learning to use a chair, barbarian!” I snapped, longing to throw something at that blond, shaggy-haired head. “But have no fear. I’d never think of suggesting a knife and prong. They’re obviously too far beyond you.”
I turned my back on him and strode out, still seething. Slamming my bedroom door helped, and slamming the bathroom door helped even more, but it still wasn’t enough. I walked back and forth a few times while the tub was filling, then climbed in and scrubbed myself briskly and quickly. I toweled down hard, slapped on body lotion, then put my face in the makeup applicator. The applicator was set for Alderanean accent styling, and I was in no mood to change it. I pulled my face out again, checked the black outlining, peach background, and three blood-red diagonal stripes on left cheek in the mirror, then moved to the hairstyler. The styler matched the makeup by piling and curling all of my hair to the right, pointing up the red stripes of high social position. Then, and only then, did I go for clothing.
The Alderanean day suit was a perfect match to my makeup and my mood. I wound the triple-stripe red legging around my right leg, then pulled on the peach and black tunic. The tunic came down to mid-thigh, showing off my figure with a pleasing number of pluses, the high-heeled ankle boots doing nothing to detract from it. I admired myself in the mirror a few moments, went to add filigreed loop earrings, then checked the picture again. This time it was perfect, so I strolled out of the room.