A successful Kickstarter paid for the audio, ebook, and print editions of this book in 2012. We hit several stretch goals, resulting in the writing of a few "deleted" scenes. Because these scenes were not from the Calligrapher's viewpoint, they don't belong in the book, but I feel they make an interesting addition to the backmatter. In the spirit of preserving those scenes (and making them available to people who didn't participate in the Kickstarter), I've added them to this second edition of Black Blossom.
1. "That Kiss." This short belongs in Chapter 15, and describes Ajan's reaction to Kor's decision to take him as a lover. It is a touch salacious!
2. "Always Always, Never Never." This short happens during Chapter 20. Andrew Clarke tells of the private interview with Thirukedi.
3. "Three Suitcases." This extra floats near the last chapter of Black Blossom; Andrew, Lenore, and Jaran each say their goodbyes as they prepare for their exile.
"That Kiss"
That kiss. That kiss, that I’d been waiting for, for so. Damned long, that KISS, aunera.
God!
I was cut once, seriously, while learning to fight with knives. I felt the touch of the blade and then a heartbeat of nothing. And then heat, blood pouring from my arm, and my entire world went hazy—
—no, the kiss was even more than that.
I had been waiting ten. Long. Years for that kiss, the one that told me that my master was at last willing to open his heart to me completely, and I had it at the edge of a bed in an unremarkable tea-house room on a distant world far from anything I could ever casually visit again for the memory of it, and god of aggression hear me, but my first love-making with the man who would remain my lover for the rest of my life was in that god-forsaken place.
All blessings on that bed, that horrible colony world and all the crazy aunera who made it necessary, and made Farren necessary, who made all this possible.
So. You want to know how it happened. And I have no problems telling you, though the scribe, it seems, is a bit of a prude, rather like Farren, dear, old, prim Farren, god bless his blushing heart. I’ll be delicate. More or less. How delicate can you be while discussing these things? But I have discovered that the aunerai vocabulary for matters of eroticism is… bizarre. And frankly, rather lacking. So I shall remedy this lack! Pay attention. There will be no test, unless, of course, you decide to go off and try it out on your own, which I highly recommend. Love-making for all!
But really. That first kiss. Just the very softest brush of his mouth on mine. Just a touch of chafing, for his lips were dry. It was as much breath as skin, that vital breath, ruj, the living air shared between two people. So warm, so brief. Such a promise.
I admit, in the narrow moments between that kiss and my hustling the Calligrapher out of the room, I built a fantasy of my master as a gentle lover, in need of my expertise—for I am rather expert, not having shared his penchant for celibacy—of his gasps of surprise as I initiated him into the gentler arts of love-making—
—the door closed and he pinned me against the wall, and THAT kiss, aunera… now, that kiss….
Mmm.
That was not at ALL gentle or tender. Urgency and power and want, yes.
…ah yes.
So, no fantasy of the gentle initiation. Which frankly was fine with me. And I’d like to say I was entirely sanguine with it, that I answered him with confidence and desire and what I really felt was shock, ah, god, a piercing shock.
Have you ever finally gotten something that you wanted for so long you’d forgotten it wasn’t yours?
Did it hurt you too?
“Ajan,” he whispered against my ear once he’d taken his mouth off mine, and his body still held mine in place, and thank god for the wall behind me to give some stiffness to my spine. “Ajan, are you well with this?”
“Yes,” I said, daring to slide my hands up his back and into his warm hair. I fisted them there, behind his neck on either side of the nape. And I shuddered. “Yes. Just… ah… forgive me. If it takes a while for me to believe it’s actually happening.”
I loved his laughter. He never laughed enough for my taste. And that low chuckle, part-growl, part-husk… all my skin grew taut at the sound of it. I rubbed my nose behind his cheek and said, “Rrrrr, do that again.”
“Which part?” he asked… mischievously!
“The laughing,” I said. “But you should feel free to do the kissing again. Several times. At least.”
“Very good,” he said, and kissed me again, and this time I kissed him back. Properly. Hard. With my hands clenched in his hair and the smell of incense in my nose, and faintly, rising beneath it, the scent of his desire. If you had any idea how hard it is to make Shame admit to desire…
When he tried to draw his mouth away, I set my teeth lightly to his lip and dragged at it. “More.”
“I’ll bruise you,” he answered, but he was already leaning in. And I grinned, just before he touched his mouth to mine. He thought me delicate. I’d had much more practice than he had. I was looking forward to using it on him—well. All thoughts I wasn’t really thinking very clearly once he resumed, until he stopped. I pressed my head back against the wall so I could get enough distance to see his face. You know he has those coronal eyes, and most of the time, they’re striking and pale and completely appropriate for Shame.
Seeing them almost entirely pupil, for want of me—
I grinned and chafed my hips against his. “You stopped.”
“Because you are entirely too dressed,” he said, spreading his hands over my chest.
“By all means,” I said. “Let’s remedy that.”
