Chapter 10 #2
“Oh, little weaver, we are married. You are my wife. I am your husband. This is our home. These eyes stay on me. That mouth only flirts with me. And these hands only touch yourself to images of me. Any man who thinks you’re his to want is making a fatal mistake.”
My breath caught. The words hit something deep inside of me. Nyxthra began whispering how this was proof that Abram was ours to keep.
“I’ll touch myself to whoever I please,” I argued weakly.
He smiled. And gods, that smile felt like a promise and a wound all at once.
I hadn’t realized that I had been walking backward until my back hit the wall.
The sound of my breath tangled with his as his fingers found my chin.
His touch was rough, deliberate, like he was fighting every instinct he had just to keep it gentle.
He dragged his pointed finger down the length of my throat, over my chest, down to my stomach, leaving a trail of heat and confusion in his wake.
He leaned forward, so close that his breath ghosted over my lips.
For a heartbeat, I thought he’d finally kiss me, but instead, he turned his head and pressed his mouth to my neck.
My eyes fluttered closed as his lips traced slow, careful paths down my skin, like he wanted to memorize me but couldn’t admit it aloud.
I sighed heavily, betraying how much I needed this, needed him, even when I knew I shouldn’t.
When he moved closer, his knee slid between my legs, pressing against me until a broken moan escaped my throat.
“Tell me that I’m the only man you’ll think of when you touch yourself,” his rough voice whispered into my ear.
I thought of refusing to answer, but his knee pressed into me again.
“You’re the only man I’ll picture.”
“I want you to call me your husband and mean it.”
His knee pressed harder, forcing another sound from me as my hips rolled into him without thought.
“You’re my husband,” I moaned as I rolled my hips again.
“That’s right. So remember that the next time you want to flirt with another man that isn’t me.” He pulled back, gripping my jaw so I had no choice but to look at him. “I will kill him if you ever look at him like that again.”
“Like what?” I breathed, my voice trembling as my hips moved against his leg again.
“Like you look at me,” he hissed.
I stared at him, searching his face, desperate to find something real behind the fury in his eyes—anything that said this meant more than jealousy or pride. But all I found was pain buried beneath it.
“I didn’t like that at all, Elowyn,” he whispered, like the words cost him something.
“And I didn’t like that you recoiled from my touch like I disgusted you.”
The words tore out of me before I could stop them. I shoved him away, my heart splintering even as his warmth left me. He was only being like this now, caught up in the moment, in anger, in whatever this was. Tomorrow he’d wake up and act like none of it mattered. Like I didn’t matter.
“That wasn’t disgust,” he said, his voice rough. “That was the look of a man realizing he wanted something too much and being terrified of what that would cost.”
Tears stung my eyes before I could blink them away.
“I have no desire to sleep with another man, but at least he didn’t look at me like I was a mistake. He wrapped his arm around me, and do you know what I thought?” I turned toward Abram, my voice trembling slightly despite my attempt at steadiness.
He frowned at me, sharp and unreadable, like every word I said was cutting him in half.
“That this man, who isn’t my husband, has touched me more than my husband has, and when he looks at me, he doesn't look right through me. He sees me.”
“El…,” he sighed, a sound full of something I couldn’t name. I waited, my chest tight, but he turned from me.
“Maybe I should just go back to the coven tomorrow. I’ll just tell them that you are traveling for work.”
“What?” He snapped toward me, the sharpness in his voice slicing through the quiet. “Now you want to leave me?” The words came out harsh, but there was something raw beneath them that made my chest tighten.
I sighed heavily, staring down at my hand, tracing the place where a ring should have been. My stomach churned with guilt and frustration.
“This was stupid, and we can break the spell.”
His eyes narrowed, locking onto me with a depth of intensity that made my limbs feel heavy.
“You want to leave me to go after Nate?” He hissed, and the sheer force behind his words pressed into me, making it impossible to look away.
“You can run back to the coven. You can try to divorce me. You can try and go to Nate, but I am not letting you go,” he said, and it sounded less like a threat and more like a refusal to survive without me.
“We can talk tomorrow.” I met his gaze, unsure if I was challenging him or begging him not to explode.
I liked Abram like this, even as the raw, terrifying power in him made my heart race. His eyes had been red before, but now they darkened, almost black, like he was possessed by some force beyond both of us.
“Fine.”
He didn’t say another word. Without looking at me again, he went over to his shelf of wood carving tools, grabbed a piece of wood and his instruments, and retreated to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through the quiet house and left me hollow.
I sat down with my pastries, trying to focus on something, anything, other than the way he had looked at me or the way I had wanted him to. Every bite tasted like ash.
I woke the next morning to the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen. Blinking sleep from my eyes, I sat up and peeked over the back of the couch. Abe stood at the stove shirtless, focused, moving with easy precision. For a moment, I just watched him. What was he even making?
He glanced up, our eyes meeting. His were still red. So, he was still sulking. My brows drew together. Abe didn’t cook.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Rectifying a problem.”
That made me stand and move closer. As soon as I was within reach, he caught me, pressing me back against the kitchen wall. His grip was firm as he took my left hand, preventing me from pulling away.
“What are you—” I started, but stopped when he slid something onto my finger. A small, wooden ring. Tiny flowers were carved along the band, delicate and detailed.
I looked up at him, words caught in my throat.
“That will ensure every man knows you’re off limits,” he said, voice low and deliberate. “We are married—in every sense of the word. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I whispered, staring at him as my stomach fluttered. My gaze shifted to the counter. “You’re… making pastries?”
He turned back to the stove. “Rectifying another issue. Nate gave me the recipe after a little persuasion. You don’t need to see him again. I’ll make them for you every day if you’d like.”
His tone softened on the last words, and something in my chest tightened. I didn’t know what to say.
“What’s wrong, little weaver?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I’m just… overwhelmed,” I murmured. My eyes fell to the ring. “I didn’t get you one.”
I wasn’t even sure why that was what I said. His lips twitched, just slightly.
“It’s fine,”
“Wait…” I grabbed my necklace and slipped it over my head. Abe’s eyes immediately caught on the key dangling from it. It was old and worn, with a tiny skull at the end. My fingers trembled slightly as I lifted it and slipped it around his neck, feeling the cool metal rest against his bare skin.
“This is better than any ring I could get you.” I smiled, my heart hammering in my chest.
“What is the key for?” he asked, brushing his fingers over it.
“It is my coven key. It is sacred. We give it to someone we trust.” Our husband, our mate.
At least that is what my mother had told me when she gave it to me.
His gaze locked with mine, and a rare softness passed through his eyes. My chest tightened as he leaned forward, and I felt my pulse spike when his eyes slid down to my mouth. Abram didn’t hesitate. His lips pressed against mine, soft at first, almost tentative, testing me.
My hands were already moving, pulling him closer.
His mouth met mine again, deeper this time, urgent.
Heat pooled through me as his body pressed me against the wall, his hand cradling my face, his tongue claiming mine.
I hummed, caught between shock and want, as his leg slipped between mine, pressing against me.
My hips shifted instinctively, matching him, seeking the friction.
Abram lifted me without breaking the kiss, carrying me effortlessly to the bedroom. My breath hitched as he set me on the edge of the bed, our foreheads almost touching.
“Abram,” I whispered, my voice trembling with anticipation.
“Time to rectify this last issue we have.” He reached for my tunic and stripped it from my body.
“Which is?” I asked, sitting in front of him, naked, my hands resting on my thighs, holding myself still while he decided what he would do to me.
“Consummating our marriage.” He leaned down and kissed me again as he yanked his trousers off. My fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him closer, desperate for the contact. His arm snaked around me, shifting me farther onto the bed, and I felt a thrill of anticipation ripple through me.
“I’ve not done this before,” he pulled back, his eyes dark with something raw. “None of this,” he said. “But I’ve thought about it enough to know exactly how I want you.”
“Me neither.” I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll learn together.”
My hand gripped the coven key around his neck, feeling the cool metal press against my palm as I pulled him down to my mouth again. Abram’s weight pressed into me, grounding me to the bed, as his hand skimmed my body, gentle yet claiming. A shiver ran through me, my chest tightening at his touch.