“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.
