Monroe gives a throaty laugh, a sound so full of the promise of sin that it sends a bolt of desire straight to my cock. Damn it, I don’t want to react to her. It doesn’t matter that she’s mine for the year or that she’s beautiful. None of that changes the truth.
She’s not the one I want.
Not the one I love.
Monroe lets the jostle of the truck bounce her nearly into my lap. She leans against me, her breasts pressing to my upper arm. “I’m a Bride. That means this handfasting isn’t official until it’s consummated.”
I clench my jaw and stare at the buildings we pass. We cross the bridge into Raider territory—territory that used to be ours, at least until we were betrayed and exiled. It doesn’t look like home. I don’t know if I’ll ever consider it home again, not when being back in the city has me expecting a bullet between my eyes at any moment. “I’m aware.”
She drags her finger down the center of my chest and over my stomach. I catch her wrist before she reaches the band of my jeans. “No.”
Monroe gives another of those throaty laughs. “I was going to do my duty—I’m no oathbreaker, after all—but this is going to be fun.”
“What?” I finally drag my gaze to her face. She’s got features too perfect to be real. It almost hurts to look at her.
She tugs her wrist out of my grip. “You have to do your duty, too, Broderick.” She draws out my name as if tasting it for weakness. “Even if you hate every moment of it.”
“I’m aware of my duty.” My voice is too hard, giving away how much I don’t want to do this. Damn it, I have to get myself in line. She’s been in my presence less than thirty minutes, and she’s already digging around beneath my skin.
“Like I said: fun.”
We pull into the warehouse we’ve been secretly staying in while we got everything lined up for the feast. It’s as secure as we could make it, which means it should be secure enough to consummate with our respective Brides and ensure the next year of peace.
We climb out of the trucks, piling into the open space around the trucks. I look around, checking to make sure everyone is here and everything is as it should be. Once I clock each of my brothers, I catch sight of Maddox standing near the door. He was left in charge of the warehouse while we were gone. He meets my gaze and gives a short nod.
Everything is as it should be.
I exhale slowly and turn back to Abel and his two Brides. Harlow, we planned on—an extra little revenge against the faction that used to be ours. But Abel’s second Bride? I study Eli Walsh, the man who was almost a seventh brother to me. The man who stood by while our father and people were killed in a coup eight years ago. He’s running the Raiders now, which more than speaks for itself about his involvement in what went down that night.
I hope Abel knows what he’s doing.
My brother looks at each of us in turn, his expression hard. “Consummate the handfasting tonight. No exceptions. Get it done.”
There’s nothing to do but exactly what he said: get it done. I turn and head for the bedroom I’ve been using, and I’m relieved when Monroe keeps pace with me. I don’t want to have to drag her behind me. No matter what we want, this has to be done tonight or the handfasting won’t hold. It’s not necessary for normal handfasting, but Brides are different. The forced peace only works if the rules are followed to the letter.
We’re nearly to the door when the person I dreaded seeing appears. Shiloh. She’s flushed as if she’s been running, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her gaze skates over Monroe and lands on me, and the relief on her face has guilt worming through me.
I try for a smile. “Shiloh.”
My best friend.
The woman I’ve been in love with for years.
“You’re okay.” She doesn’t touch me, doesn’t close the last bit of distance between us, but she gives me a trembling smile. “I was worried.”
“No need to be. Abel took care of everything.” I was the worried one. For as secure as we’ve tried to make this warehouse, it’s an imperfect safety. Anything could have happened to the people we left here. Just like anything could have happened to my brothers in the moment we stepped onto the sand of the arena. If the Herald hadn’t agreed to let Abel fight, they could have descended on us and finished what they started eight years ago.
“Yeah, Abel’s good at that.” Her smile goes a little strained and her gaze flicks to Monroe again. “I, uh, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”