“Gaven, they’ve already had easier chances to kill me. If you’re in the room for this, I’ll actually want them to succeed in offing me.”
He lets out a surprised gasp that sounds like half a laugh.
I pat his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Just stay out of earshot. Consider that a command. There will be no better time to snoop around this place.”
He sighs and nods curtly, then shoves the heavy wood door to the ceremony room open for me. I step inside without hesitation.
Roughly forty masked faces turn toward me as I enter the space. The murmuring group quiets and shifts to take their places in an arch around the bed. Several men stand toward the front of the crowd, their colorful auras pressed out wide.
Though tonight’s ritual is to honor Divine Kennymyra, I know the heads of the fort’s most powerful families are the ones we really have to impress with ourperformance.
The room is bathed in golden candlelight from the red candles in the wall sconces. Shadows flicker over the ceiling, making the knots in the intricate wooden beam look like ghoulish faces. Servants flit about the room, refilling wine glasses. There’s a door on the far end of the room that leads back to the feast. Music from the party filters in under the gap in the door.
Finally, I turn to face the bed and my new husband standing beside it. Henry’s changed from his wedding clothes into a red silk robe that matches mine. The top gaps open, revealing his broad, scarred chest as he holds out a hand in invitation. When I take it, he yanks me closer and pushes my back against one of the bedposts. He kisses me hard. I’m so shocked, I let him.
My heartbeat kicks up and I’m suddenly nervous—not about the public sex so much as the fact that I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep my composure. Whatever that blessing did—or maybe some reckless desire for oblivion—makes me want him.
Henry breaks away from my lips and kisses along my jaw, pausing at my ear. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
I don’t like feeling at his mercy. I need something—anything—to balance this dynamic between us. Henry is so tall, he looms over me. His eyes on me are heavier than the weight of the collective gazes of everyone else in the room.
“Is Miriam the woman you were trying to fuck on hunt night? Is she here tonight?” I ask.
Henry’s aura flares in surprise. “I didn’t take you for the jealous type. I know better than to bring her around my murderous wife.”
I glare at him, but I’m relieved that the comment had the desired effect. There’s a hint of annoyance in his eyes.
He moves so quickly, I can barely track him as he hooks an arm under my legs, sweeps me up, and then tosses me on the bed. I bounce once, and before I can right myself, he’s prowling over me. He unties my robe and sits back to drink me in.
Bea used to say I have a body built for fucking. My breasts are full but perky. My waist is slim but my hips are wide, and my ass is high and round from all the running.
This isn’t the first time Henry has seen me naked, but under his assessing gaze, I wonder if he prefers someone with a fuller figure, like Miriam.
“Is this red?” he whispers, drawing a finger along the lace edge of the neckline.
I nod, and he hums low, closing his eyes. I wonder if he’s trying to remember red. I try to imagine what it would be like to have a sense and then lose it.
He puts his hand on my chest, but he doesn’t cup my breast or tweak my nipple. He just presses his huge, callused hand to the soft skin, his fingers resting against the pulse point in my neck.
My heart is pounding so hard.
“I’ll keep you covered,” he whispers.
When he was kissing me, it was easy to ignore the eyes in the room, but now that he’s reminded me, I feel suffocated by their attention. In my periphery, I only see black masks. I’m relieved Gaven listened to me, and the anonymity of the masks makes this a little bit less uncomfortable, but not much.
I want to choke Henry for making me so aware of them. I look up at him with as much defiance as I can manage. “I’m not ashamed of my body.”
A muscle in Henry’s jaw twitches. He runs a finger down the center of my chest, then grips the top of my slip and rips it down the center,baring me to the room. The violence is so sudden and shocking, we both freeze. His hungry gaze scrapes over my skin and he licks his lips.
He cups my right breast, gently brushing his thumb over my nipple. He pinches it lightly. When I don’t react, he pinches it harder, and I arch off the bed, pressing into his hand. He hums, the slight twitch of a smirk on his lips as he caresses my skin.
He kisses me again, and I’m torn between shoving him south so we can get this over with. We discussed what I was comfortable with ahead of time, but I wasn’t expecting him to kiss me so much, and every time he does it, I feel so disoriented by how much I like the closeness. Pain is grounding—but the tenderness unnerves me.
As if sensing my distraction, he pinches my nipple even harder, and I groan into his mouth and shudder. Damp heat rushes between my thighs. I told him I liked it rough because I thought that would be easier to sell than some slow, sensual lovemaking, but now I’m worried what this kind of recklessness will bring out of me.
He nips down my jaw, buries his hand in my hair, and yanks my head back to give him better access. His other hand slides down my side, passing over warm skin, shredded silk, and then more skin. He rakes his fingers up and down my thigh, progressively moving from outer to inner thigh.
He bites my neck hard, and I gasp. The hand on my inner thigh pushes the remains of my slip higher. The cool air hits my pussy and I feel just how wet I already am.
