Betrayer: (The Cursed Bloodstone Book 1)
Betrayer: Chapter 14

Torchlight illuminates Gabriel’s tent as I undress. Inwardly, I curse my choices that led me here. Caught between being sent back and failing, I made the only decision that would gain the Bloodstones’ trust.

Growing up in a brothel never adequately prepared me for marriage. I saw the women there, how they talked to men, lured men. I know everything that happens between a man and a woman in bed except how it feels.

This marriage isn’t real.

Even as I think those words, the weight of the vow I spoke feels real. The tattoo etched into my left wrist feels real too. Everything about this day feels real. The fact that at any moment the tent flap will open, and Gabriel will enter, feels very real. He will expect me to be his dutiful wife.

My focus shifts to the bed, and my stomach lurches. I exhale and rip my gaze away. Why didn’t I prepare better? Surely, one night with a man would have lessened my nerves and allowed me to perform the way Gabriel would expect.

The Seer’s words pierce my ears. “Olah approves.”

Surely, Olah, the god of all Tarrobane barbarians, doesn’t care.

Gabriel is just a man. I’m just a woman.

The flap lifts, and Gabriel enters the tent. The moment he steps inside, and the linen fabric settles into place, the interior seems smaller, and he seems closer. Too close.

He doesn’t meet my eyes as he crosses the room and pauses in front of the washing stand. He cleans his hands, then removes his surcoat. I brace for him to undress fully in front of me. It will not be the first time I have seen a man without clothes. I spent enough time in an army full of men to not shy away from their nudity.

Earlier, I had touched him, felt his strength beneath my fingers. Now, I’ll finally see the rest of him.

Muscles flex in his arms and shoulders as Gabriel rotates, still wearing his pants and boots. In slow, precise movements, he folds the surcoat and places it on the table.

As I stand and turn toward the bed, those images from the brothel return. I shake my head, trying to shake those memories away. They still blind me. The men pounding the women. The women moaning as if they took pleasure from the invasion.

Maybe some of them did. At least, they seemed to when they talked about their favorites. I move to the mattress and lie flat on my back.

I enjoyed the kisses I shared with Malachi. Things will be different with Gabriel. I’m not here to enjoy sharing his bed.

Gabriel sits on the opposite end of the mattress and speaks in a flat voice. “You should know I have no intention of bedding you.”

My mouth parts as his declaration sinks in. “Why?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“But I am your wi—”

“—you’re a Kyanite.” Bitterness burns from those three words. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

So he has reminded me from the moment he set eyes on me.

I’m Kyanite. He’s Bloodstone.

He hates me.

“If you don’t bed me, our marriage will not be real.” And I will fail. I pull the bedcovers down enough to reveal the nightdress Kassandra gave me. “You don’t need to trust me to bed me.”

His stare remains pinned to my face. Cool air dances along my exposed arms, my neck, my throat. I keep the bedcover wrenched between my fingers. His eyes never drop lower.

The first flicker of failure digs at my determination. Gabriel doesn’t want to bed me. Now, that’s not something I expected.

“Why are you really here?” he asks, his tone hard.

“I want to belong.”

Shadows linger on his features as his lips thin. “You may have fooled Luc, but you haven’t fooled me.”

I study him, noting the firmness of Gabriel’s jaw, the stiff edges behind the stare he keeps locked on the ceiling. “Then why did you agree to wed me?”

“I told you. Because of the Seer.”

“Surely, that’s not the only reason,” I say, still doubting their absolute faith in the Seer.

“Your mark,” he says, his tone flat.

I roll my arm over enough to observe the cursed serpent. “You agreed to marry me because of a simple mark?”

“No.” Those silver-blue eyes of his stay locked on the ceiling. “There’s nothing simple about it. The Seer guides all Bloodstone. Disobey and chaos will follow.”

“Then,” I begin as more of their traditions click into place in my mind, “the Seer ordained our marriage?”

Without a word, he grabs a dagger from the nearby table and unsheathes it. “Spread your legs.”

My breath hitches, a reaction I’m sure he doesn’t miss. “Why?”

“For the council.”

My mind scrambles as he reaches for my leg and yanks it toward him. I flinch when he pulls my gown to my upper thighs. He pauses with one hand still wrenched around the fabric. I wear nothing under the nightdress. A vein throbs in his temple as he shoves the material between my legs, creating a barrier between my intimate flesh and his gaze.

His mouth forms an even thinner line as he releases my nightdress and lifts his hand. With a quick flick of his wrist, he runs the blade across his palm. Blood drips between my legs and pools in a crimson stain on the bedcover.

“I don’t understand.” The men at Father’s brothel would have never passed on an opportunity to bed a woman. “Why would you cut yourself instead of taking what is rightfully yours?”

Mother may have died when I was young, but I know what’s expected of a wife.

“I will never bed you.” He stands and moves to the washing stand. From the table close by, he grabs a cloth and ties it around his hand.

“Then why wed me? Why pretend like you took my innocence?” I move away from his blood and yank my nightdress down.

“I created an illusion for the council to observe.” With his jaw set, he reaches for his surcoat and pulls it on. “As for my reason for wedding you, I am following my path, the same path that will discover every secret you’re so keen on keeping.”

“What happens after you discover I have no nefarious plans?” The words snap out of me before I think of containing them.

He pulls his weapon belt back on and talks over his shoulder. “Good night.”

With long, even strides, he exits the tent. The moment I’m alone, I exhale as relief floods through me.

Gabriel didn’t bed me. He will never bed me.

Thank Olah. I married a man who has vowed to never touch me.

As quickly as my joy soars, it crumbles into a heap of nothingness. Gabriel doesn’t trust me. He thinks I am hiding secrets.

I sigh and roll to my side. I’ll never flourish here if he prods at all my secrets.

If succeeding means getting him to bed me, he will.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

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