Dumped the Oathbreaker for His War God Uncle novel · Chapter 6 of 32

Chapter 6: Wedding Night

Theron didn't move off the door.

He looked down at me, at the key-shaped lump under the white wool between my breasts, his expression breaking.

"I can't explain it," he said. "Not tonight."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Both."

"Then you know what's left," I said.

"Nysa."

It was the first time he'd said my name like that.

Low, like it hurt him a little.

"Say it again," I said.

"Nysa."

I reached behind me for the hooks he'd done up the night before, and found I couldn't reach those either.

"You'll have to help," I said. "I'm told you're good with your hands."

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone. They meant spears."

He laughed, a short rough sound, and turned me around by the shoulders to face the bed with the owls on it.

His hands found the hooks.

One by one, slow enough that I felt each one give.

I stood still and let him.

The white wool slid off my shoulders and caught on my gold cuff.

He lifted it free and let it fall.

"Turn around," he said.

I did.

He looked at me in the thin linen shift and the firelight, and the look went all the way down and back up.

"Now the key."

I reached into the front of my shift.

His hand caught my wrist.

He reached in himself.

His knuckles dragged down my breast as he found the key.

He held it up between us.

Then he tossed it across the room.

It clinked against the far wall and fell somewhere near the door.

"You won't need that," he said.

"Apparently not."

He pulled the shift up over my head in one motion.

The air hit my bare skin.

I stood there naked in front of my husband with my hair spilling out of its pins and my heart hitting so hard I could hear it.

He didn't touch me.

He just looked.

His chest was rising and falling under the black tunic.

"Say it," he said.

"Say what?"

"What you want."

I lifted my chin.

"I want you to prove it."

He took one step and backed me against the bedpost.

I put my hands on his chest to steady myself.

His tunic was warm from the fire and from him.

"Prove what?" he said.

"That you weren't lying."

He took my wrist and put my hand flat over his heart.

It was pounding.

"Is that proof enough?"

"No."

He dragged his thumb over my bottom lip.

I bit it.

He made a low sound and pushed my hair off my shoulder.

Then his mouth was on my neck.

I gasped and grabbed the front of his tunic.

His teeth scored the skin under my jaw and I made a sound I'd never made before.

"You have no idea," he said against my throat.

"No idea what?"

"How long I've thought about this."

I didn't ask him how long.

He pulled back and looked at my face.

"I'm not going to be gentle."

I held his eyes and said, "Don't you dare be gentle with me."

Something flared in his face.

He picked me up and dropped me on the bed.

I bounced once on the owl bedspread and lay there, breathing hard.

He stood over me and unclasped the bronze at his shoulder.

The tunic came off over his head and hit the floor.

I looked at him.

He was broad and heavy and scarred.

Old battle lines ran across his ribs and down one side of his stomach.

His arms were thick, his chest wide and dusted with black hair, and the scar through his eyebrow pulled his face into something ruthless.

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