Rituals of Passion (Brides of Caralon, Book One)

by Alexander, Lacey

  “Earlier, when I was inside you, you said you were mine.”

  She had said it. Unbelievable but true. Her heart shriveled at the reminder. “It was the insanity of sex, I assure you.”

  “Sex is not insanity, Maven. Sex is all-powerful, and between a man and his wife it is a bond, the deepest affection.”

  She shook her head. “None of that matters. And what I said when we were fucking is of no consequence, either. What matters is how I feel afterward, which is…that I’ve betrayed myself for physical pleasure.”

  “And you can see it only as that—physical pleasure? You couldn’t perhaps let pleasure translate into more? Into caring? Happiness?”

  “No. Pleasure is not enough, Dane. Life is about more than sex.”

  “Some would disagree,” he said, and no doubt about it, Caralonians were a sensual people who loved to fuck probably more than anything else. That was one reason it had been so difficult to suffer in ignorance with her braid and her virginity for so long—the knowledge that the rest of society was out there experiencing the one thing she and her sisters could not.

  Even so, though, she believed life was about more. Because she’d lived her life up to now without it, she knew other aspects of existence mattered—a lot. “And I would disagree with that.”

  “So it is as I said when I first arrived? We’re going to have an unhappy marriage and there’s no fixing it?”

  She’d never heard her husband sound so tired, and something about it added to the pain inside her. Of course, more than just her pain increased—even now, his mere presence made her heart beat a little faster and her cunt begin to tingle. But she had to push that aside for once—she must! “There’s no fixing it so long as you think you own me,” she solemnly announced.

  He sighed, his voice gathering strength. “And by the same token, I suppose we won’t be happy as long as you persist in defying my natural right as your husband.”

  “Natural?” She pushed to her feet with fresh ire. She no longer wanted to sit next to him, the beast. And truthfully, she didn’t trust herself to. “It is a law made by man, not Ares,” she insisted.

  “If not by Ares, then why is it like this?” His eyes gleamed up at her beneath a pale sliver of moonlight. “Why has He not changed it?”

  Her back went rigid. “Perhaps He is trying to change it. By giving my mother equality with my father. And by giving me the self-respect not to accept it. Maybe she and I are the first steps toward change.” She turned her back on him then, needing a break from those eyes—even in the dark—and the move brought a gentle pulling sensation at her neck, reminding her that his horrid yoke of a choker still bound her. She reached up and pulled at it in frustration. “Dear Ares, why can’t I get this thing off of me?”

  “What thing?” Apparently, the darkness prevented him from seeing her motions.

  “This horrible choker.”

  When he didn’t respond right away, she almost regretted the words, thinking them too harsh—for the choker was quite exquisite, as fine a wedding token as she could imagine. Finally he spoke, his voice a bit hardened. “It’s my gift to you. Why should you want it off?”

  She thought the answer obvious, given their discussion. “It says you own me.” Just as everything in this marriage seems to.

  His heavy sigh weighted the air. “You are the most spoiled, selfish, unappreciative girl I’ve ever met.”

  “Then perhaps you should take me back to where you found me,” she snapped, the choker forgotten as she curled her fingers into fists at her sides.

  “It’s not that easy. You know that.”

  “Then you would if you could, if we were not bound in marriage?”

  The question hung between them for a long moment, until his answer came, soft and deep. “No.”

  She gave a sardonic laugh. “No, of course not. I almost forgot. You’d be giving away your chance to rule Caralon someday.” She took a deep breath, then bravely met his gaze in the darkness—where she discovered it was easier not to feel so captured by it, easier to remain strong. “Well, I’m sorry, Dane, but if you’re so determined to rule this entire domain, I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer for it. Suffer by being married to a woman who detests the ways of life you have the audacity to believe are right.”

  With that, she turned and stomped away, her heart beating with the same speed and intensity as always when she was with her husband.

  Anger. Fear. Lust. They all mixed and mingled, tying her into a knot inside. The only thing she knew for sure was that there was no answer—no way to solve the problem that stood between them.

  She was his wife. Trapped in a marriage made up of equal parts passion and loathing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She’d told him he’d have to suffer through their marriage, the same as she would, but maybe, she thought as she entered the fortress, neither of them had to suffer. And maybe he would never be ruler, but she cared little one way or the other about that at the moment.

  The way she saw it, she had two choices.

  She could stay here and be his wife. She could lose control to him. She could find herself thinking—insanely—that she wanted to belong to him, more and more each day, until she herself slowly came to believe it was right and true.

  Or she could run away.

  She could run back to her home in Myrtell.

  But no, she decided instantly, her heart constricting, her father would only return her to Dane.

  So perhaps she could make her way to one of the many small farming or manufacturing settlements that dotted the landscape between here and home. She could learn a trade, washing or sewing or cooking. She could find a position in which she could earn enough to survive.

  And…maybe she could even send for Donnell.

  Yet…no. As attracted as she had felt to Donnell when he’d expressed his fondness for her, sadly, the young man no longer appealed—from where she sat now, her affection for him felt like nothing more than a child’s crush.

  Making her way to her room and closing the door firmly behind her, she plopped on the bed, her thoughts drifting even further.

  Maybe she could find…a man who fucked her as well as Dane, made her feel as thrilled and cherished as Dane did in bed, but who would treat her with reverence in all things outside the bedchamber as well. She had to believe such a man existed. Her father had been such a man to her mother, after all.

  She let out a sigh. Man or no man, she suddenly felt she had no choice but to leave.

  She’d learned a lot about herself over the past few days, and to stay would be to risk herself, her very being, all she believed in. She wasn’t sure how she’d live with herself if she began to think she belonged to Dane, too. Without self-respect, her life would mean nothing—she would be no more than a dim shadow of her husband, and that was a notion she could not abide.

  I should do it tonight.

  The words raced through her brain with startling immediacy. In one sense, such abruptness sounded crazy to her—for she would need to gather adequate food without being noticed and perhaps steal one of Dane’s valuable horses, even though she didn’t know how to ride. By all counts, it would make more sense to delay a week or two, perhaps use the time to master horseback riding and to gather the food bit by unnoticed bit. By all counts but one, of course.

  She didn’t want to give herself to him again.

  She didn’t want to succumb to his seduction even once more, for what if that was the point of no return, the one occasion on which she finally surrendered herself, heart and soul, to his wishes?

  If she was leaving in order to save herself from giving in to his beliefs, she had no choice but to leave now.

  * * * * *

  Two hours later, she crept back into her room, a sack of provisions in her grasp. The fortress was quiet and dark and she’d snuck to the kitchen and back without being seen. Ares must be blessing her journey, she thought, to have made it so easy. Now, if He would only teach her how to ride a
horse.

  She couldn’t quite believe she was doing this, and she well understood how dangerous it was—but when her mother or father or Dane called her strong-willed, they were right, and the pressing desperation that filled her now drove her onward. Safeguarding her self-respect was worth risking any consequence.

  When she heard a commotion outside, she ran to her window to look. But all she could see was the same garden where she’d spoken to Dane earlier, shadows of vines, the shapes of trees jutting up into a sky of darkest blue. Even so, she was certain she’d heard the whinnies of horses and the pounding of hooves.

  “Dane will be only a moment and then we can depart,” she heard a man’s voice convey with great urgency. Was it Kells?

  “He’d best hurry if he’s to lead us,” another masculine voice replied. “It’s no small matter this time.”

  What was going on? Where was Dane leading them to?

  At that very moment, the door to her room burst open. She turned to find Dane stalking through it with clenched fists and narrowed eyes. He looked fearsome—more so, perhaps, than she’d ever seen him before—and in an instant she finally understood without a shred of doubt how he’d earned the name Dane the Dreadful.

  Had he finally tired of their arguments and come to kill her? she wondered helplessly.

  She found herself backing toward the wall as he neared, never slowing his pace.

  “I’ve been called to war, wife.”

  She gasped. “War?”

  He spoke quickly, with fierce determination. “The Virgs have crossed the border. What we originally thought was a rogue band has turned out to be a force of thousands. I’m needed to command the troops. We must turn the intruders back before they venture any deeper into Caralon.”

  Maven could scarcely believe her ears. She supposed that, up to now, she’d thought the need to protect the borders was frivolous, that there existed no real threat to a domain so large and powerful. “But I thought you said the estate was well-guarded.”

  He gave his head a short shake. “They’re not coming after the estate. They know it’s too well-protected for them to breach. Instead they’re headed south and east, toward weaker settlements.”

  A fear unlike any she’d ever known assaulted Maven, trickling down through her like cold water replacing the blood in her veins. Caralon wasn’t safe? Total innocents in unguarded villages might soon be killed? And her husband—her husband—had given himself the charge of stopping all this?

  The last thought filled her with an entirely new sort of agony, something that pulled on her heart and felt much closer to home.

  “But…why must you go? Can’t Kells lead the army?” After all, she’d come to believe Dane was more of a stern figurehead now, the man who gave the orders, not a man who would ever again need to fight on the front lines.

  “This is a serious attack, Maven. The most serious threat to Caralon from the Virgs since my parents were killed. I’m needed and I must go.”

  She felt her lower lip begin to tremble as her stomach churned. Why did she even care? In truth, she barely knew him. And as she’d told him so many countless times, she didn’t like him. What did it matter to her if he went off to war and got himself wounded—or killed? She could scarcely understand her reaction, yet it felt exactly as if someone she loved were being forced into danger.

  He tilted his head slightly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I saw fear for me in those pretty eyes.” Then he shook his head. “But surely I’m seeing things. Be of good cheer, Maven. You might get lucky. I might get killed.”

  She sucked in a deep breath at the very suggestion, her stomach now tying in painful knots. “I never said I wished you dead.”

  This new, shocking sense of panic and worry raced through her more deeply still as her husband stood looking at her. She couldn’t read his expression—she was far too busy trying to absorb the news he’d just given her, trying to decipher why it upset her so. Dear Ares, he was going off into battle, risking his life, a mere few days after marrying her!

  Finally, he drew in a deep breath, looking as if perhaps he’d just surrendered some part of himself, then stepped up and crushed her to him in a hard embrace. As warmth and terror filled her, it was the first time she understood with clarity that her feelings for Dane ran deeper than lust.

  At the moment, she didn’t want to rip his clothes off or take him inside her—she only wanted him to hold her, and she wanted for it never to end.

  After what seemed a long while, he released her, only to lift his hands to her face. He gazed intensely into her eyes, then pressed a kiss so rugged and wild to her mouth that it was all she could do not to collapse beneath its power.

  Upon releasing her, he gave her one last, long look, then turned and walked from the room—headed off to war.

  Maven’s heart felt as if it were crumbling in her chest. How had this happened? When had she started caring about the big beast? What in Ares’ name had he ever done to earn her care?

  But that quickly, she began to understand that those questions no longer mattered—because much more pressing ones were replacing them in her thoughts.

  What if he died?

  What if she never saw her husband alive again?

  * * * * *

  “Dane, behind you!”

  Kells’ warning sent Dane spinning, lightning fast, to find a leather-helmeted Virg running toward him, blade raised and ready to strike. Dane threw his spear, aiming for the Virg’s heart, hitting him just below, beneath the ribs, in a swift, clean kill that dropped the encroacher with an “Ooomff.”

  As the dirty Virg was pinned to the blood-soaked ground, Dane snatched up the man’s blade and scanned the area for more attackers.

  He saw only his own men—outfitted in black—dotting the body-strewn battlefield. “Is that all of them?” he asked, breath labored.

  Next to him, Kells, too, breathed hard. “I don’t see any more.”

  Dane’s heartbeat began to slow for the first time in an hour as a cautious sense of relief began to set in.

  But just then, a vague, low hum could be heard in the distance, drawing his gaze to the northern horizon.

  “Ares,” he breathed, “another regiment.”

  They could be seen three hills away, a blur of brown leather and steel that glinted beneath the sun.

  “Regroup, men!” he yelled to those around him. “Take cover in those trees!” He pointed to a large line of tall pines that would conceal their presence until the Virgs were upon them.

  Hurriedly, the forces in black grabbed up what weapons they could from their fallen enemies and retreated to the copse of trees.

  Dane lay on his stomach next to Kells, looking out over the field of battle, eyes peeled for the first appearance of the troops they awaited.

  “Ares, what I wouldn’t give to be in Lonya’s arms right now,” Kells murmured, sounding sad but also determined. “I swear to Ares, Dane, if I get out of this alive, I’m going to take that woman for my wife.”

  Dane drew his eyes briefly from the Virg-littered meadow to his friend. “Your feelings for the girl are that strong this quickly? Strong enough to last your whole life?”

  Kells nodded without a hint of hesitation. “She’s the one.”

  Funny, a few days ago, such words would have shocked Dane, even left him confused. Before a few days ago, marriage was strictly a means to an end—a societal expectation for a wealthy man, a way to get an heir so he’d have someone to leave his vast estate to, and most of all, for him, a bid for power over Caralon. But as he lay there among the pine needles, the scent of the moist soil underneath filling his senses, he realized that if he died, the thing he’d hate most to leave behind was not his power, nor his estate—but his bride.

  Even if she hated him. Even if they were never happy.

  The moments when they were joined by sex had brought him more profound gratification than he’d ever known. He hadn’t expected that. He’d not thought it possible, given he
r disdain for him. Yet somehow he’d come to feel something deeper for her than mere desire. He’d thought a few days ago about wanting to make her happy, but now that want was more like a need, a compulsion to do whatever it took to make Maven smile. To make Maven feel safe. To fulfill her in the ways in which he suddenly felt fulfilled by her.

  It made little sense to him, given the very rocky start their marriage had gotten off to, but sense was beside the point at a time like this. It was at moments such as these that a man looked into his heart and understood what was important. Now, one word, one name, kept playing over again and again in his head.

  Maven. Maven. Sweet, impudent, eager Maven.

  He wanted to make her smile.

  He wanted to make her scream with pleasure.

  He wanted everything with her—everything two people could feel. He wanted what his parents had had, a truly wonderful marriage, a marriage of genuine love and trust and respect. He supposed he hadn’t thought for a long time about his parents, in that way, before she’d entered his life.

  It hit him then—maybe that was all she was really asking for? Genuine love and trust and respect. Suddenly it sounded so easy. And he’d made it so difficult, feeling so sure his headstrong bride was trying to change him, trying to take something away from him. Feeling so determined to break her will after discovering her stubborn streak.

  In that moment, with death and danger all around him, filling his senses, it struck him how unimportant his quest to rule Caralon suddenly seemed. Oh, certainly, if he survived this, he knew it would again rise to importance for him, but life was about more than just gaining power and having control.

  Ares—knowing Maven, even for so short a time, had softened something in him, opened him to feelings he’d not quite known lived inside him. He’d intended to conquer her, but he couldn’t help thinking she’d conquered something in him instead, and he couldn’t be sorry for it.

  Just then, the awaited regiment of Virgs came running over the nearest rise at the edge of the field, swords and hatchets and spears raised, the invaders yelling with all their might.