His cousin nods.
Something sparks in Hector’s eyes as his attention shifts to me. Something so carnal, so powerful, it sends heat sprawling between my legs. He grabs my upper arm and guides me to our tent.
The second we pass through the entrance, he walks me backward until I’m pressed up against his desk. His fingers slide down my arm and entwine with my hand, holding it firmly to the wood as he leans down and crushes his lips against mine.
My body ignites as Hector’s lips force mine to move with him, his need burning into me. His fervor. His passion.
Earlier, he fought with wildness, abandonment. Now, he’s kissing me the same way, as if he must show me how desperately he wants me.
His men and Mildred are waiting for him. Instead, he’s in here kissing me, pushing me against the desk, taking what he wants.
Not that he has to take it. I’m his wife, after all.
He pulls free with a groan and holds me against him a moment before breaking free completely and turning away, his back and shoulders moving up and down as he breathes in quick, uneven gasps.
“Hector.” I touch his shoulder.
“You will join us for the ceremony,” he rasps out.
“What’s wrong?” I think of him sparring the way he did, and now, the way he kissed me. My surcoat swishes against my legs as I move to face him. “You are acting a little wild.”
“You make me wild.” He frames my face, his grip firm.
“What happened?”
He jerks his calloused thumb along my jaw. “Nothing.”
I stare up at him, taking in the way the torchlight glimmers off his face. It plays with his midnight hair and sharpens the edges along his jawline—those edges he uses to guard his cracks.
He probably thinks he disguises them. But I see them. Those fractures left behind by a father who had his mother executed. And by witnessing the brutal assassinations of his grandfather and uncle.
Everything he is, and everything he has suffered, has made him this. This hardened warrior who tries so hard to keep the world firmly on his shoulders. Yet, the weight is consuming him.
I didn’t see it before. How it’s consuming him.
His answer rings in my ear. “Nothing.”
It’s not true. Something had to happen. Something he’s unwilling to tell me.
“Yes, but earlier, you—”
“—fought like a man who hasn’t bedded his wife,” he says, his voice low, almost gruff.
My eyes widen as my lips part, but I find no words.
He leans close and speaks with his mouth near my ear. “If I don’t have you soon, I will go completely mad.”
ChapterTwenty-Four
The Bloodstone warriors lit at least twenty torches and stuck them in metal brackets in the center of the clearing.
I try to pay attention to their ceremony, but Hector’s last words refuse to be silenced. They beat with the currents of my heart.“If I don’t have you soon, I will go completely mad.”
I want him too. Maybe I even crave him. No. I definitely crave him. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here thinking about him instead of focusing on the ceremony.
Invisible threads bind my gaze to Hector standing in the center of the clearing, his shoulders stiff, his eyes locked straight ahead. He looks in control again. He’s wearing a surcoat with his coat of arms over pristine leather armor. Gone is the wildness. The bare chest. The sweat. The rippling muscles on full display. The fierceness.
Mildred steps forward and lights a brazier, and the tangy smell of frankincense resin fills the air. “We ask Olah for his blessings as we continue our journey. For the rising sun is the origin to which the soul ignites a spark in all of us.”
