“Do you think he’ll ask me to stop?” Sorcha asked quietly.

I came close and sat on the floor next to the couch. I watched Nuri’s sleepy, pinched face, watched his tiny fingers curl and uncurl against Sorcha’s breast. “I don’t know. If Nisa was fine with it, I can’t see why he’d want to stop it.”

“He’s not very good yet, not very able, this little one,” Sorcha said. “He bites. It hurts when he bites. Nisa’s tits are battered from him.” My eyebrows shot up. Sorcha laughed. “She had me look at them since I know a bit about nursing.”

“I believe you.” I ran a finger along the sole of Nuri’s foot. “What does it feel like?”

“It feels...well, like I said, the little bugger bites. Hard. So, it’s not pleasant. Not yet. Once he gets the hang of it, and me and Nisa get the hang of it, it might yet be pleasant. But right now it’s not. But it feels...it feels good. Feels warm and soft and relaxed like I’ve had a fine bottle of wine all to myself.” He smiled, first at Nuri, then at me. “I like it.”

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

As Nuri nursed, Sorcha’s breasts grew. The smell of Sorcha changed: no longer herb and resin, now milk and musk. As the weeks stretched on and turned to months, Sorcha’s features softened. The hard line of his jaw grew rounder. His hair thickened, grew shiny, just like Nisa’s. His lips became fuller. He was still himself, his voice was still that same sing-song baritone it had always been, but he nursed long enough that his body hovered in some murky area between man and woman.