Betrayer: (The Cursed Bloodstone Book 1)
Betrayer: Chapter 18

Later that night, the door bursts open, blasting cool air into the room and ripping me from sleep. I blink as Gabriel rushes out of our room with his Broad sword clutched in his right hand.

Dread rises thick in my throat as I gain my feet and reach for my dressing gown. With trembling fingers, I tie the belt around my waist and step to the window. No sounds pierce the night. No people rush about. At least, none I see in the moonless sky. I blink at the shuddering shadows and frown. If I were in Kyanite land, I would have joined Gabriel. I wouldn’t have stayed behind.

Here, Gabriel needs to believe I’m weak. Obedient. Not a threat.

Unconsciously, my fingers brush against my serpent mark as I rotate, taking in my new bed chamber. It boasts a bed barely large enough for Gabriel and me, a washing stand, shelves with dried herbs, and an armoire. There’s no color, no embellishments, nothing to warm the space.

The bedchamber is as plain and strait-laced as the man I married. Not that Gabriel is plain. However, he’s methodical, rarely friendly, and I have never heard him laugh.

Again, I press my hand against the mark and frown as I recall the kiss I shared with him. It’s not what I expected. In truth, I wasn’t sure what it would be like.

It was memorable, and it awakened the curiosity inside me. The curiosity I suppressed after I left Malachi.

I sigh and sit on the left side of the bed. Father would say I am weak for even thinking about Malachi. No. He would say I am weak for marrying Gabriel.

The door groans open, and Gabriel steps back into the bedchamber. He lays his sword on the table and rotates to meet my watchful gaze. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Is everything all right?”

He nods as he removes his surcoat.

“Something happened, though,” I say, still trying to pull the truth out of him.

The mattress dips as Gabriel sits on the bed. “Men tried infiltrating the city, but they didn’t reach their destination.”

“You stopped them?”

My focus shifts to Gabriel’s broad sword. How many people has he killed with that very weapon? How many of them were Kyanites? I swallow and look away.

“No. Guards had already captured them.”

I lie flat and stare up at the torchlight shuddering across the ceiling. “Who were they?”

“Kyanites,” Gabriel says in a bland voice.

My stomach tightens as I force myself to maintain my position. “I don’t understand.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Don’t play coy.” Bitterness hovers over Gabriel’s tone. “You know your people have been attacking Bloodstone people for summers.”

“As you have.” Those three words escape me.

“You think I invaded Kyanite land?”

“I…” I dig my nails into my left palm. “I don’t know if you have, but your people have.”

Gabriel mirrors me, lying flat and staring up at the ceiling. “You’re bitter.”

“I am not.”

“Lies.” Only one word, yet it impales, rips me open, displays everything I try to contain.

Frustration singes my veins. “If I were bitter, I would have never agreed to this marriage.”

“You agreed because you want something.” The mattress moves beneath him as he shifts enough to meet my gaze. “I just haven’t discovered what.”

“I told you. Well, I told Luc. I want to belong to something greater, and I need to be useful.”

“Greater than a Kyanite?” he asks.

“I love my people.”

“Is that why you left them and married a Bloodstone warrior?”

“Are you trying to rile me?”

“No,” he says, his words driving a stake into my chest. “I’m digging at your façade until I uproot all your lies.”

Boldly, and foolishly, I draw closer and speak in a firm voice. “Then enjoy playing with dirt, Gabriel.”

A half smile pulls at his mouth as he sweeps his blue eyes over me. “That’s the second spark I have seen in you.”

For several breaths, I analyze his tone, feeling his words as much as hearing them. Was that admiration I heard?

This is my window, my one opportunity to win his favor. “Is that what you like?” I ask in a throaty voice that sounds nothing like the women in Father’s brothel. Instead, I sound croaky. “A spark?”

He blinks and shifts to lying flat again. “Don’t.”

“Or?” The bedcovers brush against my arm as I draw even closer. “You’ll kiss me the way you did earlier?”

The smile disappears from his eyes, his mouth. “Earlier, I was performing, as you do every time you try to tempt me.”

“I am not performing. I simply have no wish to deny myself.”

Four summers is far too long to wait. Four summers of longing, wanting, thinking of the next touch. The next kiss.

The man in mind never had a face. He was just a hope that somehow, someway I would find time to renew my passion.

Of course, I only allowed such thoughts when I was alone in my bedchamber and the world had darkened around me.

Now, the man who could awaken those desires doesn’t want me.

“Good night.”

How final those two words are. How unfriendly. Though, Gabriel has never tried to be friendly.

He’ll not deter me. At every push, I’ll shove back. At every unkind word he speaks, I’ll answer in kindness.

Though, I’ll have to stop trying to sound like those women. They knew the art of seducing men.

I obviously do not.

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