way out of here, and me too—but what about our people? What about Yulenna, who’s cowering upstairs?
“Aron,” I murmur quietly, and put a hand on his chest. I lean in and whisper in his ear, his nearness threatening to distract me. “I don’t think they meant to offend you. Let’s bring it down a notch, okay? No one’s going to touch me but you. I promise.”
His eyes blaze at me for a long, silent moment, and I feel as trapped under his outrage as the others do. I don’t dare breathe, my hand still on his chest. When he continues to remain silent, the air practically crackling around us, I rub my thumb against the fabric of his new tunic, just over his heart, and arch an eyebrow at him.
The terrible tension in him seems to ease a bit. His hand relaxes on my waist, and Aron gives a curt nod.
“Why don’t we just enjoy the celebration of your arrival?” I ask, sliding my hand up and down his chest like a good, flirty concubine would. It’s not a hardship.
Aron’s hard dual-colored gaze rests on me, and he nods, slowly. “If you like.”
Why not. We’re already here and I worry that if we leave now, we’ll make everyone angry enough to hunt us down. I’ve had enough of that. If I have to spend an awkward evening at a feast, I’d rather do that. “I would like,” I tell him, smiling. “I’m sure Markos and the others would, too.”
He leans in closer, his voice low. “You know I care nothing for them.”
For some reason, I get goosebumps. Maybe it’s the way he says it—as if it’s a caress and not a statement of an arrogant god. Whatever it is, it makes me shiver. I keep smiling and turn towards the lord and lady, who are watching us. “No one touches anything of Aron’s, and we’ll stay.”
“Of course,” Lord Secuban says, dipping low to touch his forehead to the floor again. “Of course, my lord. Whatever you desire, it shall be. We are simply honored to host you.”
Aron grunts.
I pat his chest again and glance over at the lord. “Eat and celebrate,” I tell him with an encouraging smile, trying to smooth things over.
Lady Gerline lifts her head, her body trembling. She looks at the pillow at Aron’s feet, then at me, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. No wonder she’s been giggling like a schoolgirl and so nervous about the feast. If sharing is the big custom here, she probably thought I’d be boinking her husband and all his buddies, and she’d get to fuck Aron.
For some reason, that makes me feel incredibly possessive. I tighten my hand on his shirt and slide a little closer to him, as if I can lay claim on the man. Her gaze meets mine and she watches me for a moment, then composes herself and sits down on the pillow at her husband’s feet. Her expression is tight, as if she’s miserable and doing her best not to show it. I feel a little guilty knowing that her evening was ruined and she’s probably been shamed in front of her people…but only a little.
Fuck all this sharing crap.
“Do you need a chair?” Aron asks, his hand sliding to my bare hip. My legs are tossed over his thighs, and I realize belatedly that my skirt has fallen open, exposing most of my calves and thighs to everyone in the room. “Say the word and I will have them get you one.”
I think for a moment and then pretend to adjust Aron’s collar. He’s wearing a new tunic, this one of a pale, cream-colored weave with deep red knotwork on the edges. “Can I stay here? With you?”
He nods and then glares at the lord of Novoro over my shoulder as the man takes his seat.
“I am sorry, my Lord of Storms,” Secuban stammers, because the man clearly does not know when to shut up. “It is just…you are the god of battle. I thought blood would be the only thing you thirst for—”
Before he can finish, Aron puts a hand on the nape of my neck and pulls me in. His mouth crashes against mine and the spark slams between us, sending a shockwave through my body.
I’m stunned. This is the first time Aron’s kissed me, really kissed me. At first I think it’s just more pretending, him trying to convince the others that I’m really his concubine.