~Chapter Thirty Two~
Always
Just Close Your Eyes.
The Sun Is Going Down.
Don't You Dare Look Out Your Window,
Darling, Everything's On Fire; The War Outside Our Door Keeps Raging On.
Hold Onto This Lullaby, Even When The Music's Gone.
No One Can Hurt You Now.
Come Morning Light,
You and I Will Be…
Safe and Sound.
~Safe and Sound, by Taylor Swift
Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.
If You're Reading This Story, Please Know It Contains Excerpts from My Lord of the Rings Story, Sacrifice.
"Besides," I softly said, mustering the courage to stare into his warm eyes, my own shining with the fear that I would be rejected by this wonderful Man, "I have feelings for someone else…"
Silver glittered with sweet hope. "Who, might I ask, is the lucky Man?" Aragorn asked, and the nonchalance of his politely curious expression was at odds with his voice, which wavered with uncertainty.
Uncertainty seemed foreign to him. He was not generally uncertain and prided himself, I knew, on remaining the confident leader of the Fellowship of the Ring. Aragorn, while unaccustomed to the demanding position of leadership, was actually born for it. It pumped steadily through his royal blue veins. So, like I said, uncertainty wasn't something that I expected from him. And I wanted to comfort him, to make his worries go away. Still I, being myself, could not resist the temptation.
"Actually, I'm in love with the Dwarf," I bluntly declared, "You see, it is Gimli that I love!"
"…WHAT?!"
"Dear God!" I howled out, torn between amusement and hysterics, the latter of which caused tears of laughter to stream from my eyes. "Of all the things I miss, I think I most miss my camera at the moment! Y-y-your expression! If only I could capture it forever! Ha!"
Stormy eyes roared with frustration and, oddly enough, mild embarrassment that colored his tanned cheeks red. Aragorn pinched the bridge of his nose. He rubbed the flesh with his right hand and grumbled, "…Samantha…"
As always, I missed the warning in his voice and blindly blundered into his trap. My eyes were alight with mirth, and I could barely breathe though the loud (yeah, obnoxious) laughter that escaped from within me. "You should've seen your expression, Aragorn! Ha, ha, ha!"
Eyes narrowed, Aragorn slowly smirked down at me, and I quieted suddenly, eyeing him with understandable misgiving. Fingers darted out and curled into my sensitive sides, making it hard to breathe – well, harder than it was when I laughed at him, anyway. I yipped at the sensation of suddenly being airborne; I'd not expected Aragorn to carry me away and to the bed. He made to drop me on the large bed, but I swiped both of his long legs out from beneath him at the exact moment, making him yelp and fall with me. He landed heavily atop me, making all of the air rush out of me, and I pushed at his chest. Aragorn swiftly pulled back, staring down at me in concern, thinking that I might be hurt, but I only scowled at him and huffed in irritation.
And Aragorn laughed, cheerfully throwing his head back and letting his laughter fill the air, making him sound and look so many years younger. My eyes softened. He did not often have much to laugh about because his mind remained elsewhere, with the darkness of his past and the bleakness of his future. Always thinking of his responsibilities, duties, oaths, and loyalties. Of being King. My Aragorn did not smile often, not that I could really remember, and I really thought that to be terrible. He should be happy. He deserved to be happy!
"So do you," Aragorn said, his voice tender with sincerity, making it quite clear that the last few words had been spoken instead of kept within my mind. His hand slowly lifted to my cheek and cupped the skin with his palm. He rubbed the flushed skin with his thumb.
Blushing, I swiftly turned to the side to avoid staring into his older, knowing eyes. I eventually steeled myself and, though I could not bring myself to look him in the eyes yet, I muttered, "Aragorn, I wanted to ask you something…"
"Yes, Samantha?" The Ranger asked simply. He slowly pressed his lankier form into my curvier one, carefully bracing his weight with his elbows, and gently rested his head atop my chest. His breathing softened in relaxation and comfort.
Startled, I glanced down to see my sweet Aragorn resting there, his gray eyes closed and his nose on my collar bone. He seemed peaceful, and I did not think that the Ranger would try anything more, so it seemed fine to leave him there. I hesitantly reached out and buried five shaking fingers into his dark hair; it was softer than I thought, though still somewhat coarse at his temples. He rumbled lightly against me in pleasure, clearly enjoying the feeling when I scratched gently at his scalp and treated him like a person. Not Isildur's Heir. A Man.
Just…Aragorn.
My Aragorn.
Half asleep, Aragorn tightened his protective grip on my waist, and I smiled down at him, feeling the rush of gratitude for this Man who protected somebody that pretty much hated him at first. I could not ever repay my companions, particularly Boromir and Aragorn, for treating me so well. Before, I would have thought myself in their debt and hated them for it. Now, though, I could tell that this was what people – what friends – did for one another. We helped out. We cared.
We loved…
"Your question," Aragorn suddenly prompted, his voice muffled because his face was now pretty much buried between my neck and shoulder. Warm breath whispered down the cleavage hidden beneath the pretty blue dress that I wore. And I shivered.
"Oh!" I chuckled nervously at being caught daydreaming again. "Well, I wanted to ask if you'd think it possible…" Taking another breath of desperately needed air, I rushed out the words and blurted, "…for you 'n me to be happy…" Heart in my eyes and throat. "…together?"
Slowly, Aragorn raised his head and shifted his shoulders to stare down at me. Gray eyes met mine, burning with something undeniably tender, and Aragorn sincerely said, "Yes, I most certainly do." He paused, then whispered something soft, melodic in Elvish.
Confused but curious, I trailed gentle fingers down his forehead and his nose, until I reached his lips. Here, I traced their outline and noted the small marks there from all of the times that Aragorn pursed his lips in thought. I shyly asked, "What does that mean?"
Gentle lips touched mine, and I did nothing, too startled to move away. He pulled back and then touched his forehead to mine. "It means, my sweet girl," Aragorn whispered, his nose and lips still brushing mine, "that I love you."
Eyes soft, Aragorn reached back down to kiss me again. I gasped into his mouth, taken aback by his sudden move, and his tongue slipped inside. My lips parted further, letting it slide against my own tongue, and I hesitantly kissed him back. Aragorn slowly, gently curled his arms around the waist that I subconsciously angled to his hips, which were just above mine, and squeezed lightly. I moaned softly at the feeling of his warm palms digging into me, and I leaned closer, pushing against his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck, holding him close. Never wanting to let him go.
A rumble of pleasure escaped from the Man who kissed like wildfire. "I wish to ask something of you," Aragorn said, suddenly breaking the kiss, his expression serious, to stare down at me.
"Anything," I mumbled, still dazed from the sensations of his kisses, which ranged from sweet and tender, to passionate and possessive. He'd completely managed to devour my poor mouth – and mind. Nothing made much sense now…
A smirk lifted his lips, like Aragorn was proud of himself for making me so compliant and brain dead, the crazy, old Ranger! "Permit me the honor of loving you?" Aragorn deeply asked of me and, the moment that I slowly, tentatively nodded at him, reached forward to place his lips to mine again.
More kisses were placed to the parted lips that I offered to him. I leaned into his touch, letting him place kisses to my nose, eyes, cheeks, and forehead. Soon enough, though, Aragorn gained momentum and moved lower, his hot mouth swiftly nipping and sucking roughly at my collar bone, leaving a collection of red marks there. His fingers, which had trailed down my sides repeatedly, moved to the loosely tied white strings at the back. He pulled at the collar, his fingers deftly undoing the strings that tied and kept the dress in place.
Slowly, Aragorn pulled the soft dress down to my shoulders, then further, until it pooled at my waist. Although it made me shy, I did not feel too terribly uncomfortable, given that I'd bundled everything to make it appear much smaller. My chest, which jumped nervously beneath his hot, curious fingers, was actually much larger. Aragorn seemed to know this to be true, if the sudden flash of desire in his eyes was any indication. His eyes swiftly darted to mine in question, and I smiled, albeit nervously, granting him permission to do so. He paused, before kissing me again.
"Lean forward," Aragorn instructed, his voice huskier than normal, and gestured for me to lean closer. He clearly wanted to remove my cloth wrappings, but I did not know what would follow that move. Still, I was eager to find out. More than eager, really…
When I listened, Aragorn then moved his hands around to my shoulders and began to undo the carefully tied wrappings. His fingers pulled the white material from my suddenly bare chest, and the Man leaned back to stare down at me, a gleam in his eyes. He gently pushed at me, silently urging that I lie back down. Nervously, I continued to follow his instructions, but without his silent commands, I did not know what to do now. I moved restlessly, flustered, and whined almost inaudibly in confusion.
But Aragorn, knowing this of me, slowly leaned forward to place his body atop mine. He then resumed kissing the naked skin beneath his hands and face, his lips trailing from my collar bone, to my ribs, to my pierced navel. Recently cleaned, I could tell that the silver piercing was a point of interest, especially since most Women did not have many piercings. Only Dwarrowdams did that sort of thing in Middle Earth. Aragorn hesitated, his lips hovering against the cold metal, before descending to slip his wet tongue through the curved silver hoop. My eyes practically burst open. Aragorn licked the skin below the hoop, continued, and then slipped his tongue lower, until –
Infuriatingly, Aragorn stopped just above the junction between my softly parted thighs, and only continued when I whined again. He smirked at the pleading sounds and kissed the small button that his long fingers pressed earlier. While still covered with the lower half of the dress, I could feel the sensation, the pressure, and arched both hips against him, wanting to feel the heat again. Aragorn chuckled, kissing down there once more, and then moved back up, mouth burning fire against my tummy. A hand hesitantly covered the soft flesh, like Aragorn just thought of something of importance, and the Man suddenly pulled back.
"What's wrong?" I curiously asked, silently cursing myself for feeling shy again. But I was so very afraid that I might not be living up to his expectations, to the countless Women that had probably graced his bed throughout his years.
Yes, I knew Aragorn had done this before. I was a virgin. Not a complete idiot…
"If you and I make love, Samantha," Aragorn slowly explained, his voice heavy with the weight of his thoughts, "then you risk becoming round with child." His throat moving slowly, Aragorn lifted his eyes to mine and murmured, "My child."
Huh. Well, I honestly hadn't considered that because I'd become accustomed to taking birth control and pretty much practicing abstinence. Here, though, I did not have the luxury of birth control, and if I wanted to make love with Aragorn, then I needed to be mature and be prepared to face the consequences. Weirdly enough, I didn't think of having his children as a consequence. I actually found the idea quite pleasant. Have Faith.
Maybe I would…
"You could take Stoneweed to prevent the likelihood of it happening, but it is still possible to become ripe with child when taking these herbs," Aragorn continued, sounding wary. Perhaps Aragorn worried that I would become pregnant or not want to sleep with him now. Regardless of his worries, I needed to make a choice. Now.
"Aragorn," I started, silently waiting for the Man to face me without wincing at the serious tone I used, "in all honesty, I've wanted children since I was sixteen, which is pretty weird where I'm from, but…" I inhaled, smiling faintly at him, and admitted, "I suppose I wanted to make the family that I always wanted to have and be included in."
Eyes closed, Aragorn painfully stated, "You should not have to conceive and birth children to have other family members that love you." He did not seem to want to voice his next thoughts, but I smiled encouragingly at him, and the Man quietly asked, "Do you only want children from this night with me?"
"No!" I exclaimed, frantically lifting both hands to capture his face and pull it to me, eyes staring into his with desperation. "Aragorn, I love you so much that I would do anything for you, even if that meant not having children!" It was true, too, though it would hurt beyond words or measure. For him, I would do anything. For his smile, for his happiness…
Sacrifice.
Startled, Aragorn pulled back to stare at me. My declaration, filled with honesty, entered his ears. He leaned forward to capture my palms in his hands, lifting the knuckles to his mouth, and huskily declared, "On the contrary, I would be most pleased if you're willing to carry my children." And I nodded quietly at him in acceptance.
Live, Laugh, Love. In that moment, Aragorn and I did something truly amazing. We changed not only each other with this single decision – no, this promise – but also Fate, which continued to guide us and intertwine his life with mine, and vice versa. Have Hope. We stared straight into the face opposite our own, gray and blue clashing like the stormy skies above the ocean in the midst of hurricanes. Have Faith.
Heart pounding, I moved to rest beneath him, feeling strangely excited with the prospect of being nearly naked beneath Aragorn. My lips touched his cheek, then his ear, and I hopefully asked, "Touch me?"
Raising his eyes to meet mine, Aragorn smiled sweetly, his lips pulled back to reveal his straight teeth. "'t would be my pleasure, My Lady," Aragorn purred, his voice already lost beneath the weight of his lips and tongue, which curled around the breasts in his hands.
My Aragorn began to gently suckle at me. I gasped out, surprised at the alternating sensations of his wet mouth and hot breath washing over my naked skin. While not unpleasant, I thought it to be sort of strange and tried to lean away. He continued his sensual ministrations, however, and made certain that I could not move. His hands, which had been at my waist, slithered back; his right moved to my right breast, and his left, over my rear. He gently slipped his hand beneath my dress, his large hand nearly covering my ass cheek, his fingers digging into the tender skin with rough affection. And I moaned.
Lost in these sensations, I did not notice his hips meet mine and, when Aragorn bit down on my nipple particularly hard, I practically jumped off of the bed in searing white pleasure. My back arched, hips rising to meet his, and I moved from side to side, unintentionally brushing against his erection. He grunted in surprise, his hips bucking against mine, and I could feel him, could feel his manhood heavy and hard against my stomach. It did frighten me, and yet, I could not help but feel excited, too.
The Ranger must have sensed these feelings because, the next thing I knew, the rest of the blue dress vanished, pulled down my parted legs and tossed to the floor without a care. Beneath his fully clothed form, I only wore my panties. Staring at him, eyes wide, I bleated, "Aragorn!"
A wicked smirk claimed his lips, and Aragorn pulled back to scan my nearly naked form, to which I weakly protested. I attempted to hit his shoulder, feeling embarrassed, but Aragorn only caught my wrist in his large hand, holding it gently. The other swiftly followed, and I could only pout up at him, annoyed at the ease with which Aragorn restrained me. Eyes softening, Aragorn kissed the knuckles of the hand closest to his mouth, pushing his lips there with a stubborn, firm strength. He then released both hands, before letting me move and sit up, a pink blush staining my nose.
Subconsciously, I lifted both arms and covered the naked breasts that Aragorn could clearly see, and blushed darker because the Ranger chuckled at me, amused with this sudden modesty. I suppose it would be funny to the experienced Man, but I could not help feeling embarrassed, having not been in this situation before. Sensing that I'd become uncomfortable, though, Aragorn paused and then leaned back, bracing his weight on strong legs and ankles.
"Come to me," Aragorn quietly demanded, his fingers crooked, and I warily listened, slowly crawling to him on palms and knees. Something about the picture that I painted, with my mouth closer to his stomach than anything else, seemed to make him lose his composure. His cheeks flushed, silver eyes dark with want, Aragorn murmured, "Closer. Much closer, little lover…"
Heat in my veins and stomach, I complied, leaning forward to touch him, hands trailing down his muscular chest. I let two fingers fall beneath the collar of his loose black tunic, brushing against the dark chest hair that I could barely see peeking out from beneath his shirt. The hairs were soft and featherlike to the touch, something that I marveled at. I attempted to explore again, but the Man moved backwards. Gently, Aragorn pushed at me, putting a greater distance between us, and pulled the tunic upward, from his chest, and tossed it to the floor to join my recently discarded dress.
Feeling hot, I leaned back to examine him. His skin, tanned beneath the sun under which his training occurred, appeared taut, stretched tightly over a collection of strong muscles and bones. Another collection, however, marred the perfection of his beautifully bronzed skin. Dozens of old wounds, scars ranging from long and red, to small and pink, covered his skin. Some were new, others probably older than me. I felt sad for him, until I could hear a whisper of the old words I'd heard back home: Scars remind us of where we're from, and where we're goin', Angel.
No, I decided then. Aragorn was not old, not broken, and certainly not scarred. His skin was not marred beneath the carvings of silver swords and claws and other sharp weapons. His beauty was in his imperfections – his salt and peppered hair, his laugh lines, his calloused hands, his scars. Yes, Aragorn was perfectly imperfect. Just like me…
You shine like the stars.
"You're incredibly handsome," I suddenly said, completely serious in my words, to which the Ranger raised his eyebrows and stared at me, a strange expression plastered to his handsome face. He seemed almost…perplexed.
"Normally," Aragorn dryly muttered, his lips curling faintly in bemusement, "It is the Man who compliments the lovely appearance of his Woman."
Grinning, I could not resist poking him in the chest and kissing the skin above his heart, which made him inhale sharply. I laughingly teased, "You must be getting slow in your years, then, Ranger!"
Appearing affronted, Aragorn lunged at me and started to tickle me again. I cackled the moment his fingers began to sink into my sides and laughed uproariously, not feeling the need to appear shy, dainty, and ladylike in front of this Man that loved the real me. Why fake being someone else, like Lady Samantha, when Aragorn loved plain ol' Sammy Steel?
"I will show you my age!" Aragorn responded, his happy expression filled with laughter. He paused not two minutes later, however, appearing somewhat self-conscious. "Do I really look that old?" Clearing his throat, Aragorn sheepishly explained, "You always refer to me as a crazy, old Ranger…"
When presented with his question, I smiled faintly at this vulnerable and, admittedly, rather adorable side of the Man that I loved. I gently explained, "No, Aragorn, I just like to tease you, and I think you carry your age very well. Besides, I love you, regardless of the differences between us, includin' the fact that I'm much, much younger." And I winced in worry.
Gray eyes were soft in the glow of the candlelight. "You will learn, little one, that I do not find much fault with your age, your open-mindedness, or your eccentricities, though I do wish you'd keep your mouth shut sometimes," Aragorn teased, loving that I scowled playfully at him at the reminder of all the times my words and beliefs caused trouble for us.
A thought suddenly whispered through me, and I could not help but wonder if there might be some truth to the fear. "You don't think of me as a child, do you?" I quietly asked him, feeling pathetically insecure next to his years of life and experience.
"No," Aragorn decidedly denied, permitting his heated stare to wander from my eyes, to bare chest, to obviously wet sex, "I think nothing of the sort." He paused, his gray eyes closed, and muttered, "If I did, I would certainly burn forever in the afterlife for thinking of all these things that I wish to do to you…"
Smirking happily at his words, I leaned forward and, lips against his ear, whispered, "Show me."
Then, Aragorn complied. His lips were on mine with the weight of his desire, but his hands dropped to his trousers, removing the belts that usually held his weapons and supplies. I soon moved both hands down to help him, carefully tugging his dark pants down while the Ranger bit down on my neck. I might like to preach about being fiercely independent, but somewhere, not even really deep down, I wanted to submit to this Man, and only this Man. Moaning, I leaned back, revealing more skin, and Aragorn growled softly in his throat at the submissive gesture. He brushed his lips over my newest love bite. Judging by his possessive expression and the sound of his growl, Aragorn was absurdly pleased with himself for making that hickey, too.
"Lie down, Samantha," Aragorn commanded with the barest hint of authority whispering into his words, his dark voice sending shivers up my spine and into my core. Oh! The way my name sounded coming from his lips…!
Slowly, I fell back to the bed, resting my waist against the sheets and head against his pillows, which smelled strongly of him. A familiar, heady scent of the forest, herbs, sunshine, and sweat made me want to curl around his pillow and hug it tightly to me. My heart pounded steadily in my chest, whispering in my ears of all the things to come, and of all the things that Aragorn would do to me. That I would do to him.
A hand suddenly dropped to my waist, crawled down my stomach, fingers splayed just below my navel. "Do you want to stop?" Aragorn asked, roughly, and his voice was noticeably hoarser. "I ask because I do not think that I will be of the mind to do so after this point…"
"No," I protested, swiftly taking his hand in mine when Aragorn jerked back, taking this short answer as an order to stop. Softly, I brought his hand back to my stomach and corrected, "I want to…I want to make love with you…please?"
Something in him seemed to shift, and Aragorn moved forward to hug me close, his face buried in my shoulder, his hands on my arms, and his legs on either side of me. We stayed like that a moment, holding each other, and I leaned against his chest, blue eyes closed, listening to his heartbeat. I reveled in the medley of feelings – of safety, of affection, of love, and of gentle possessiveness – that Aragorn offered to me. And I hoped I that I offered him the same.
Slowly, I permitted Aragorn to move us closer to the sheets, until both his body and mine were suddenly horizontal. My panties were removed, followed by the thudding of his falling boots, and Aragorn then swiftly removed his breeches. His eyes on mine, Aragorn slipped his right hand between my parted legs, watching me as my eyes slowly followed the progress of his fingers, which parted wet lips, curling inside of me.
Biting down in surprise, I glanced at him from beneath fluttering eyelashes, and moaned softly in approval, enjoying the sensation of his two fingers slowly moving and curling against my warm inner walls. I could feel the stretching, and I absently realized that Aragorn must be preparing me, making it easier for the next step. Thoughts of what would happen in a moment made it hard to breathe. Suddenly, I was nervous, and afraid. That it would hurt, that I would not be good enough, that I would disappoint him. All these things 'n more.
"Do not fear, little Samantha," Aragorn murmured, his mouth against my ear, "I will be gentle."
Moving back, Aragorn insistently pushed into me, a soft mumble of Elvish falling from his lips like rain. My back arched, legs parted, and I could feel the pressure starting, a sign that Aragorn was going to break through the hymen in a minute. Stomach aching and heart pounding, I clung to him, fingernails scratching at his back, his strong muscles and shoulder blades. And then, Aragorn thrust within me.
Admittedly, I cried out in shock and in pain, feeling like I would break in half if Aragorn continued. He slowed, stopping mid thrust to let my smaller form adjust to his overwhelming size – which, I stupidly realized too late, was rather proportionate to his height. While a man of Earth might be six to eight inches, I had the sneaking suspicion that Aragorn might be nine to ten! And I'd always been shorter than the most girls. Unfortunately!
Yeah. In other words, I wanted to die…
After a moment of cursing God, darkly wondering how anybody could think of sexual intercourse as a pleasant experience, I could feel Aragorn move. His tense form, which had begun to sweat profusely, inched further inside, until his manhood could be sheathed fully inside of me. I slowly moved with him, attempting to meet him thrust for thrust, when Aragorn started to really move. We fumbled for a moment, uncertain how to match the other, but then –
"…Harder, Aragorn!" I begged, lifting up and meeting the firm smack of his hips against mine. I opened blue eyes and watched him pull out and then push back in, sinking in until I could not see anymore. He hit something in me that made stars explode, my wild heart catching fire, and I desperately chanted, "Harder, harder, harder!"
"As you wish," Aragorn hoarsely whispered and pulled back, holding himself above me with his palms splayed beside my shoulders. His knees were on the bed, lower legs stretched behind him, while mine were wrapped around his thin waist, ankles crossed behind his backside. We moved together, falling into a rhythm made for only us, and moaned softly into the mouth of the other.
"Little Samantha, look at me," Aragorn murmured, and I glanced at him, peering through half shuttered blue eyes. Silver wind met blue skies. A dark gleam entered his eyes, though I could not see it through the stars, and Aragorn growled, "Scream my name."
Before, I'd been biting my cheeks, keeping quiet for the sake of keeping his reputation (and also mine, as an afterthought) in good standing. I was not afraid of letting people know that I loved Aragorn. I didn't really want people to know that we'd slept together before marriage, though, because it was considered improper here. Our children would be bastards in their eyes, unless Aragorn and I married before their birth. So I wanted to keep quiet, to keep from crying out. His words, however, completely deteriorated that resolve…
"Holy Hell, Aragorn!" I gasped out, his name screaming out from between parted lips, again, and again, and again as my orgasm exploded like fireworks behind closed blue eyes. Whimpered, I only whimpered out a cry when Aragorn continued, and I screamed, "A-A-Aragorn!"
"Good girl," Aragorn grunted, obviously pleased, and his hips began meeting mine in an even swifter, harsher rhythm. The Man pounded faster, harder, until – "Samantha!" More Elvish followed this soft cry.
Soft humming flowed through me, an aftershock of stars and fire and rain whispering in my veins with each residual pulse inside of me. I hugged him close as my quickened breathing slowed again and whispered, "Love you…"
"I love you, too," Aragorn murmured, kissing me gently, and placed his head back on my chest, just above the steady beat of the heart within its cage. A heart which belonged to him, I knew. It would – forever and for always – belong to him. So would I…
Yawning, I cuddled into his strong arms, savoring the familiar feeling of sleeping beside another warm person, and sleepily mumbled, "Shouldn't I head back to my room?"
"No, Samantha," Aragorn whispered back, brushing strands of golden hair from my eyes, "You will stay with me, as you always should." Silver eyes softened to molten liquid. "I will keep you safe, and I will love you." He gently placed another kiss to my red, swollen lips. "Sleep now."
"Stay with me?"
"Always…"
***Author's Note***
Hello! I have decided to pull the lemons from Sacrifice and put them here, in the companion novella, Sacrificial Lamb.
Sacrifice has been completely edited and is in the process of being uploaded and finished! Epilogue is done, too! Look for it later today. :)
PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!
:)
