18
HARLOW
’m not sure what possessed me to sneak out to see the hunt last night.I Perhaps it is madness that made me think following a stranger into a dark forest during some sort of sex game was a good idea. But it’s not madness alone. It’s also seeing the annoyance on Henry’s face when he realized I won’t be so easily contained.
I had an idea of what it would be like here, but none of the stories I heard as a teenager could have prepared me for watching Henry’s friend with that woman.
It was reckless to wander. I could have just as easily been scooped up by someone other than Henry. I need to stop treating this place like I know the dangers the way I do at home in Lunameade. There’s a whole new set of rules I need to familiarize myself with so that I know how to skirt them without getting myself killed.
The Havenwood House library seems the obvious place to start. I should be looking for secret tunnels or hidden books, but instead, I’m searching for a book on marriage rituals because no one has told me a thing about what to expect.
This morning, I woke to two women knocking on my bedroom door.
They rudely barged in despite Gaven’s protests and proceeded to fit me for my wedding gown and ritual clothing.
I wasn’t exactly expecting privacy here, but I also wasn’t expecting two strangers to ask me what position I’ll be consummating my marriage in so
that they could create undergarments that would best put my assets on display.
The only highlight was seeing the stunned look on Gaven’s face over the top of the changing screen. It’s almost impossible to shock him, but I’ve never seen him hustle out of a room so fast.
Now he’s posted outside the library doors after sweeping the entire room like a secret army might be waiting to murder me in the history section.
I understand the vigilance, but I hardly think the two of us are prepared to stop the full force of the fort. If they want to kill me, they will likely succeed.
Still, I appreciate that Gaven will go down swinging.
The library is bigger than I expected. People in Lunameade believe Mountain Haven is full of wild folks who don’t care for scholarly studies, but this room must span the entire length of the house. Light pours in the large windows, illuminating dust motes that swirl around leather-bound volumes of every color and size.
A large map of the fort adorns the wall by the entrance. There are six levels, with Havenwood House situated at the top of the fort, the last strategic stronghold if the Drained were to attack. The map is more decorative than functional, and while seeing the gates between levels is helpful, it offers little detail that I didn’t see with my own eyes yesterday. Riding into the fort, I noticed some of the nuances of each level, like how most of the gardens and farmlands seem to be on the first level, but I need to ask Henry if there’s a hierarchy to who lives where. I wonder if the poorest and least magical in their community live on the first level, the way that the poor and unblessed live on the outermost rim of Lunameade.
I walk down the narrow aisle, running my fingers over the spines. None of the titles mention rituals or weddings. When I reach the end of the row, I notice a small alcove cut into the wall that’s sectioned off from the rest of the room by an iron-barred door. I peek through the iron slats, scanning the books inside until one catches my eye. The entire shelf contains titles related to divine rituals of Mountain Haven. Some of the books look ancient, their leather worn and cracked.
I try the handle on the door, but it’s locked. When I was young, Kellan and I made a game of picking locks to all non-magically locked doors in Carrenwell House. That skill has come in handy with my double life as the Poison Vixen more than once, but when I’m working, I typically have more professional tools to use. Now I only have the pins in my hair, and while they
could probably hold up to picking this kind of lock, the last thing I need is for one of them to break and leave evidence of my snooping.
Instead, I try to squeeze my wrist through the opening in the slats. It’s a tight scrape, but my hand pops through right beside the handle. I’m just barely able to reach the lock, my fingers skimming it enough to twist it. I try the handle again and the door creaks open.
Wrenching my hand free, I take one quick glance over my shoulder, then dart inside and pull one of the newer-looking tomes from the shelf. I duck out of the space and close the door behind me. My heart kicks up, a pulsing rhythm that drowns out my footsteps as I walk to the end of the row and place the book on a table tucked into the stacks.
The title is etched in fancy red lettering. I trace the words: Mountain Haven Marriage Rituals. The leather creaks as I open the book and flip through the handwritten pages. There are sigils for the Divine, elaborate drawings of where the couple and their family members should stand during the ceremony, and lists of offerings that should be made to the Divine for a long and prosperous marriage.
According to this, Mountain Haven’s marriage rituals consist of three parts: Vows, Communion, and Consummation.
I page through the book until I reach a section on the consummation ritual. My pulse kicks up as I flip through page after page of diagrams depicting all manner of sex positions. There are notes on which couples bonded their marriage in which styles, including the names and dates of their coupling.
Shuddering, I turn a bunch of pages at once and pause on the image of a woman with her hands fastened to opposite posts in a canopy bed. Her legs are also spread wide and attached to posts at the bottom of the bed. The elegant script at the top of the page reads: Rituals of Submission.
Apparently, there are different versions of each part of the ceremony, but these people have another thing coming if they believe I’m going to submit to that smug asshole.
It’s less the thought of having sex in front of other people that unnerves me than the fear that I might enjoy fucking Henry. Warmth rushes through my blood at the thought of his rough hands on my thighs and the way he bit the skin above my stockings like he knew exactly what I wanted.
The last thing I need is to harbor even the smallest bit of affection for him. This is just a job—one that I need to end soon so that I can return to
Lunameade and help Aidia. The sooner I convince him that I’m vulnerable, the sooner I can figure out what he and his family want.
“If you want to know about our traditions, you only need to ask. You’re the only one that expects yourself to be all-knowing.”
Henry’s voice startles me from my thoughts.
He’s right behind me. I was so focused, I didn’t even hear him enter the library.
I continue to page through the book, ignoring him as I scan more illustrations in various positions.
“Isn’t this from the locked section of the library?” Henry asks.
I shrug a shoulder. “The flimsy lock made it feel more like a suggestion.
But if you’d like to tell me what I need to know about the ceremony, I won’t have to resort to petty crimes. I’m eager to be a dutiful wife and I wouldn’t want to offend the Divine by not honoring your customs.”
He chuckles low. “Yes, you certainly seem devout.”
I swirl my fingers in front of my lips. “I honor the Divine by using the blessings they’ve bestowed on me, or at least I did until you interrupted me.”
He arches a brow, then flips back to the front of the book and taps the page. “First, we’ll exchange vows in our Vardek Temple. He’s the patron of our house since my father and my sister were both blessed with his gifts. The ceremony is much the same as a Lunameade wedding, from what I understand, though with less pandering to the ruling family.”
He rubs his stubble. I noticed it the first night we met in the bar—he does that when he’s unsure how I’ll react.
“And then we will have a wedding feast, music, fine wine, and cake. Not like the stuffy affairs you’re used to,” Henry continues. “People actually dance and enjoy themselves. We take the pursuit of all pleasures very seriously.”
I wish he would get to the point. It’s the next two parts that I’m most apprehensive about.
“Then we will have time to be in communion with each other.”
“What does that mean, though?” I ask.
He smiles wickedly. “It means that we have to be spiritually and emotionally intimate before we are physically intimate. You’ll sit with me under a veil and we’ll have to exchange secrets.”
I scoff. “No, thank you.”
“It’s not optional.”
I wave a dismissive hand. “And then?”
He purses his lips. “And then we’ll be taken to the chamber in the back of the temple, where we will consummate our marriage in front of witnesses.”
This entire conversation is unsettling. Not because I’m uncomfortable with my body, but because I don’t like that he has more experience—that he’s witnessed this while I’ll be going in blind. Being on my heels is disorienting enough. I don’t like that he knows more than me.
“So I’ll have to—” He clears his throat.
“Fuck me?” I finish. “If you can’t even say it, I’m not sure how you expect to do it.”
His eyes narrow. “This isn’t a game, lovely. I’ll need to fuck you like I’m claiming you. I need to make you come. Everyone will need to believe that you’re mine or there could be challenges.”
“Challenges?”
“I told you before, out here strength is prized above all,” he says, tapping a finger on the book. “Only the strongest of us survived the attack ten years ago. Only the strongest of us survive the culling to become guards, and if you don’t regularly prove you’re stronger than the rest, they will come for you, to take what’s yours for the good of our people. You are a powerful ally. Others will try to sway you. It would be foolish of them not to when they have such an obvious opportunity to attack my relationship when it’s at its weakest.”
I smile. “Is that what this is? A relationship? And here I thought it was more of a hostage situation.”
He frowns, his shoulders going tense. “Harlow, this is serious. I know you don’t trust me, and that’s fine. I don’t trust you, either, but this is the truth: I cannot protect you from them if you don’t let me. We have different rules here—different customs.”
“And those customs don’t require consent?”
He throws his hands up. “The consent is a precursor to participation —”
“So anyone can do anything they want —”
“That’s not what I said,” he snaps. “We have customs, like hunt night, that are inherent to keeping wildness in our culture—where hunters can hunt and capture their prey and fuck them into submission. No one is ever forced to play and hunters need to go through a full training ahead of time to ensure they understand how to do so safely. But once they are out in those woods, anything goes. It’s why it’s an optional event.”
“That—” I shake my head, my mind whirling with the image of Bryce
fucking that woman.
“It’s triumph and surrender. You wouldn’t understand.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m telling you all of this because everyone here already knows the rules and you don’t, and if you don’t learn them fast—if you keep fighting me every step of the way—I won’t be able to ensure your safety. The last thing I want is a war with your family.”
I could at the very least count on that last part being true. There’s no way he wants an outright war with the Carrenwells. It would be too messy, and my family’s magic—and that of those we shared the well with—would easily overwhelm even the well-trained killers within these fort walls. But I still can’t rule out the possibility that he wants a quieter, sneakier war with us. He could be working with the rebellion. For all I know, he could be Rochelli and the whole attack at our engagement dinner was a clever diversion.
“I know it goes against everything in you to listen to me, or anyone else for that matter, but there are things you cannot do here. Do not flirt with others. It makes me look weak, and that makes you vulnerable.”
I scoff. “So, I can’t so much as flirt with someone else, but you’re allowed to fuck some other woman on hunt night?”
Henry arches a brow. “I didn’t think you would care if I fucked someone else, lovely. Now that I realize you’re jealous —”
“I’m not jealous!”
His lips twitch. “Now that I realize you are determined to have me to yourself, I promise my eternal fidelity.”
I clench my teeth. I imagine how satisfying it would be to press my fingers into the soft notch at the bottom of his throat just to make him gag. “I meant that I don’t need or want your protection. I can take care of myself.”
He shakes his head. “In Lunameade, I have no doubt, but the quickest way to get hurt in Mountain Haven is to believe that you don’t need anyone else. Do not flirt with others. Do not wander far alone. And never, under any circumstances, run from me.”
I want to push. Maybe it’s a lifetime of restriction and the freedom of finally being away from my family, but I want to stretch the limits—rattle the bars of my cage and see what he does when I do.
“What happens if I run?”
Something menacing flashes in his eyes. “I’ll catch you.”
My mouth goes dry, but I refuse to break our eye contact.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Can we just have a truce? Can
we be allies? We don’t have to be anything else. I know you don’t trust me in general. I know you didn’t plan on getting married again and I am just an obstacle in your path, but can you at least trust that it’s in my best interest to
keep you alive?”
I cross my arms.
He licks his lips. “Why are you being extra prickly about this? It seems
like you could use a good fuck.”
I scoff. “Doubtful I’ll find one here.”
He closes the distance between us and pushes me back against the wall, his hand resting against my neck. His dark blue eyes burn into me like he can see right through me and knows why I’m uncomfortable.
“No, that’s not it.” He lets out a low laugh. “You almost let me fuck you the night we met. This is something else. Tell me.”
I look away, searching for anything to focus on but the intensity of his gaze. I hate this. I hate that I have to let him see this. I don’t want to lose the upper hand.
His thumb strokes my jaw. “Allies, Harlow?”
I have to give him something. I’ve pushed enough that he’ll feel like I’m compromising.
“Allies.” I swallow down my dignity and blurt out the truth. “I’ve never had an orgasm with someone else.”
He smirks until he sees that I’m not messing with him. “How is that possible? You don’t seem like the type to settle for someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing. Is it an emotional thing—like, you need to be in love?”
I scoff, brushing his hand away and crossing the room to stare out the window instead of meeting his gaze. I can’t look at him for this.
“Love has nothing to do with it.” I sigh and drop my head back. “It’s impossible to relax when I’m with someone because no matter how much they remind themselves that they can’t kiss me, it’s a reflex of affection for other people. I have never been able to lose myself enough with someone else to get over the edge because I was too worried about keeping them alive.”
When I turn, he still looks wide-eyed. “So you’ve never —”
I blow out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I know how to get myself off. I’ve done it in front of other people, just never had someone else doing it for me.”
The recognition dawns on him, and I feel too exposed. “You can’t control
your poison?”
I brush my fingers over my lips. “Not here. Every person I’ve ever kissed on the mouth has died.”
He stares at me, slack-jawed, and the admission is almost worth seeing him look so stupefied.
Then his mouth tilts into a smirk, and I hate him. “So I was your first real kiss?”
It would be so satisfying to slap that smile off his face. “You hardly seem the sentimental type.”
He shifts and plays with the stitching on the book cover. “So you can’t control it in your lips, but you can with any other touch. You can summon it or banish it at will from your hands like you did with my wine at our engagement dinner.”
I chew my lip. It makes me nervous that he knows this secret. Not even my parents know, though that’s mostly out of spite. Aidia doesn’t even know because I didn’t want to give her something she had to hide from them.
In my early days as the Poison Vixen, I did have to kiss my victims. The magic in my hands was untested. It’s hard to practice without victims to practice on, and it was easier to kiss them. I learned about new poisonous plants and their effects, the speed with which they could kill a victim, and how painful the death was. There had never been such an opportunity for creativity.
Over time, I became more comfortable using my hands first and my lips as a backup. I also got to experiment with using different types of poison.
That secret created a near-constant conflict when I was with Bea. She hated that I was kissing strangers, even if it was to kill them. I liked that it made her jealous—liked that I could get a reaction out of someone so steady.
It was the one secret that was just for me. Until now.
I hope it wasn’t a mistake to surrender this so quickly.
“Keep that to yourself,” I say. “I prefer to be underestimated. You learn a lot from people by how they treat someone they think is weaker.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Your secret is safe with me.”
I believe him for now, though I expect the moment it makes sense for him to share it with someone else, he will. I cannot count on him to be more than a temporary friend because I have precious little hope to start with. I have the slimmest opportunity to save Aidia and very little time to do it. I need something valuable to bring back to my parents so I can get the key to the
tunnel and get her away from Rafe before she breaks for good.
I turn my back to Henry and flip through the book again until I come across an illustration that depicts a woman whose limbs are tied to the four posts of the bed. “So, is it like this? Will I be restrained?”
Suddenly, he’s behind me, his body pressed to my backside. My heart kicks into a faster rhythm as his fingers skim my hip.
“Would you like to be?” His voice is different—low and gruff in a way
that twists my stomach in knots.
“No, I don’t think I would.”
He chuckles, his breath ruffling my hair. “No, I don’t think so either. You
like to think you’re in charge.”
“I am.”
He runs his fingers up my waist, then higher, sliding his palm to my stomach and pressing my body back against him. “Let’s test that theory.” He
presses a soft kiss behind my ear.
“What are you —”
“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re going to have to get used to me touching you—make them believe that you enjoy it.”
“It’s a good thing I’m an exceptional actress,” I say, but my voice is too breathy to be believable.
“We’ll have our wedding ceremony and party, just like I imagine you do in Lunameade.” He kisses my neck, and it’s so nice not to worry he will accidentally kill himself by brushing his lips to mine.
His breath ghosts over the nape of my neck as he speaks. “Then we’ll be brought to the ceremony room. There’s a bed at the center and couches and seating around the perimeter where everyone is welcome to station
themselves.”
“To watch?” I ask.
He nips at my neck, and I gasp.
“Yes. To witness me claiming my new wife. To be certain that I’m capable of pleasing her.”
I frown. “Plenty of women can’t get off with a partner by no fault of their own.”
“Yes, but there needs to be a believable connection. To make sure that neither of us is faking our commitment to each other. And there’s particular pressure on me as their heir to be able to please his wife. If I can’t deliver on my commitment to you, I won’t be able to deliver for them, and since my
family has already failed to protect them once, the pressure is on.”
“That’s a lot to risk on a stranger.” Especially a stranger he’s supposed to hate—a stranger whose family nearly wiped his people out, assuming he knows that’s the case.
His lips brush over my pulse. The instinct to pull away from him wars with the satisfaction of being touched this way.
It’s been too long since Bea and almost a lifetime before that. There was an occasional tumble with a handsome idiot from one of the bars I snuck off to, but those were always quick and disappointing.
Henry’s slow and sensual kisses on my throat are so different and not unwelcome. He’s being too bold and no one is here to watch this. I should stop him. I should pull away.
“We worship Kennymyra, the Divine of Pleasure, and we take the pursuit of pleasure very seriously,” he says.
“Will I have to be naked? I was measured for undergarments this morning,” I rasp.
He pauses. “You strike me as very confident in your body.”
“That doesn’t mean I wish to share it with the world.”
He hums softly against my neck. “You can choose to keep them on if you’d like, but the acts are very clear. Whatever you wear needs to be something that allows me to get my face between your thighs.”
I clench my legs together involuntarily. Trying to deny my attraction to him would be ridiculous at this point. There’s a ruggedness to Henry’s good looks. So many of the men in Lunameade are pretty, but soft. Henry’s hands are callused, his forearms marked with faint scars. And he’s confident in the way of someone who has rarely been denied.
“I’m going to make you come with my mouth and my cock.” He says it so matter-of-factly—like he’s talking about the weather or what he’s planning to wear to dinner.
I clear my throat. “I don’t know if I can climax more than once.”
“You can.”
His confidence chafes. It breaks the spell.
I tilt my head, glaring at him over my shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”
“If you’re so certain you’re an unsolvable puzzle, then perhaps we should practice ahead of time.” His grin turns roguish.
I choke on a startled laugh. “Of course that’s your suggestion.”
“I’m not above taking instruction. Show me how it’s done.” He gestures
to the table.
Warmth spreads up my neck to my cheeks. He wants me to get myself off in front of him right here, right now.
“Didn’t think you’d be one to blush, lovely,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not. I was just caught off guard by the suggestion.
It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”
“So you like to be watched?”
My stomach twists at the gruffness of his tone. I do, but he hasn’t earned that information.
“What I like is irrelevant. This is a business arrangement.”
“Well, if that’s your attitude about sex, I understand why you haven’t had much success with a partner.”
I shoot him a scathing look, but he just laughs.
“Harlow, you’re going to need to lighten up. Show me. I promise to keep my hands to myself. Perhaps you’re not as sure of yourself as I thought.”
I have to rise to the occasion. He needs to be humbled. Thank the Divine I only brought scandalous underthings with me.
I shove the book onto the floor and slide onto the table, hiking my dress up in one smooth motion.
He goes silent as he catches a glimpse of the green silk garters.
“For someone so focused on practicality, you certainly seem to appreciate fancy undergarments,” I taunt, sliding my fingers over the top of the stockings.
“Well, they hardly seem frivolous on your body—though one wonders why you bother wearing something so intricate if you weren’t planning on showing it off.”
I frown. “Bold to assume that I wear them for anyone but myself.” I snap one of the garters, and his hands flex at his sides. “Want to know what I like, Henry?”
He tracks my fingers as they slide higher, gently rubbing over the lace between my legs. I’m already wet and I don’t doubt that I’m going to be able to easily get myself off in front of him simply because he’s turned it into a challenge. If I was focused on anything but the finish line, I’d be more self- conscious, but the only thing I’m focused on now is my desire to get the upper hand back in our exchange.
If he was one of the idiots I snuck off with back in Lunameade, I might try for the performance of it all, giving him a good look and reminding him
that he can’t touch.
But Henry is something else entirely and the freedom of me focusing on my own pleasure will get to him more than even my finest performance.
I close my eyes and tip my head back as I drag the strip of lace to the side. Henry lets out a sigh, and I feel his gaze fixed on my hand. The table creaks as I lean back and draw my hand away, letting him have a clear view.
Then, I slide my fingers over my clit and sigh. With my eyes closed, I watch the pulse of his aura as it swells and shifts around his body, forming a crude outline of him. I’ve tried not to study it too closely, but now I see the intricacy of it. It’s a deep purple, but as it swells, it looks almost like a burnt plum color closer to his skin.
I move my fingers faster, pinching my clit before sliding a finger inside myself. I moan.
Henry’s aura flares wider, pressing right up to the edge of mine.
My skin is hot as I pump my fingers faster and rub the heel of my palm over my clit. My muscles tense as I chase my pleasure and try to ignore Henry altogether.
Instead, I think of his eyes, the deep blue of a stormy sky at dusk. I think of the way he felt pressed against me last night and the feeling of his lips on my neck. I think of bending him to my will and getting control of my life back once and for all.
The climax hits me out of nowhere—a soft swell of pent-up pleasure that rolls through me like a wave. Goosebumps rise on my skin and I gasp as I ride it out. When I finally blink my eyes open, Henry is closer—only a few inches away—his gaze fixed between my thighs.
“Did you learn something, my feral wolf?” I draw my fingers free and suck them clean, my eyes on Henry’s.
His nostrils flare and his hands fist at his sides. He licks his lips. “Now that you’ve educated me, you should know we have a dinner with all the most influential families at the fort tomorrow night. I’ve sent a dress to your room and you’ll be expected to be on your best behavior.”
I lean back and offer him one last glance at my undergarments before letting my dress fall back in place. “Is this not my best behavior? I haven’t
even murdered anyone.”
He arches a brow. “Yet.”
“Excellent point. There’s still time.” I glance at the book beside me.
“Anything else I need to know about this?”
“They will know if you fake it.”
I freeze. “How?”
“Those with blessings from Kennymyra can always tell, but there’s an enchanted golden sigil in the headboard of the bed that absorbs that released pleasure and acts as an offering to Divine Kennymyra.”
I stare at Henry, waiting for humor to break through, but he’s not joking.
My mouth is suddenly dry and my hands are clammy.
“Not sure what to do when you have to stop pretending, huh?”
I glare at him. “More concerned you won’t be able to finish the job.”
A predatory smirk spreads over his face. “I can’t wait to make you scream.”
The words send a pleasant shiver through me.
I jump down from the table and walk toward the library doors. When I push into the hall, I expect to feel better without the weight of Henry’s assessing gaze on me. But the certainty in his words haunt me, the echo of them chasing me down the hall and all the way back to my room.
