Ridiculous. He’s not trying to seduce me.
I hiss out a quick breath and consider grabbing the jar and dousing him with it. Then, I’d be free to leave, and he’d smell how the council expects him to.
I freeze when he grabs my wrist and yanks my hand away. My focus lowers to his chest where five fingernail indentations mark his skin.
I clawed him?
“I’m sorry,” I breathe as heat flames my cheeks.
“As much as I enjoy a little roughness, you may want to leave the foreplay for later.” The humor in his tone only adds to my embarrassment as he reaches for a cloth and hands it to me.
“But I…” I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale. Why couldn’t I do this?
“Here.” He takes the linen from me and wipes away the excess oil from my hands.
Get it together, Sol.I inhale, taking it a deep breath of the cardamom and olive oil. Then, I slowly exhale.Find your calm.
I open my eyes as he picks up my cloak and places it around my shoulders.
“Kassandra will be back for you shortly.”
“Thank you,” I mumble. I have nothing else to say. No words. No excuses. Nothing that would explain my embarrassing actions.
He offers a curt nod and exits the tent.
The moment I’m alone, I slap my hands against my mouth. I clawed him. He will probably be bruised tomorrow.
Why couldn’t I just rub the oil on him? I have touched men before. Especially when tending to their injuries.
There was something about Gabriel and all those muscles. The heat of his body beneath my fingertips. The stirring deep in my belly.
Hades!
He’s Bloodstone.
I shouldn’t give him a second thought.
But I do—over and over again until Kassandra enters the tent.
ChapterThirteen
If I was home, the sounds of drums would fill the air. People would line the streets, throwing flower petals as the newly married couple walks past. A progression of young girls would follow with grass baskets laden with rice, wheat, and barley—their gifts an offering for Olah to bless our marriage.
Here, there are no sounds of drums. No flowers. No young girls. There’s only Gabriel, Luc, Kassandra, and one of the council members standing in a small tent. Thankfully, Cenric is absent. There’s something unsettling about the long-haired man. Something dangerous.
Or maybe that’s the way all Bloodstone warriors are, but he strikes me as being different because of how he killed those Malachites.
I return my attention to the ceremony and the tent we stand in. A brazier burns herbs I don’t recognize, and Kassandra stands with a terracotta bowl filled with soot and brown dyes.
I wear the same surcoat Kassandra gave me on the day she ordered me to bathe in the river. Gabriel wears a marked gray surcoat over dark pants.
I try to not breathe in too deeply. If I do, I’ll smell the cardamon. I’ll remember touching Gabriel and clawing him earlier. My cheeks heat as I still a sideways glance at him, taking in his stiff jaw, as though he grinds his teeth together. He probably does. I cannot blame him for not being happy about wedding me. After all, people from our tribes rarely wed.
Apprehension settles deep within my bones as the ceremony continues binding me to Gabriel. He’s simply a fork in my path, and I learned a long time ago to approach every fork with a smile. So, I smile until my mouth aches.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, the councilman’s last words send ice shards against my heart. “As the rivers Johita and Wocorra join the ocean, so you two have united. Let no man pull asunder what Olah has destined.”
The moment the ceremony finishes, Kassandra grins, grabs my hand, and leads me to a nearby table.
