“The marriage will need to be consummated to be legally binding.”
Gabriel offers his hand, which the officiant shakes. “Thank you, brother.”
I’m afforded no time to say goodbye to Headmistress or the other girls as Gabriel grabs my upper arm and ushers me out of the room. His grip is firm but not harsh as we exit the building, where a car is waiting for us. The driver opens the backdoor of the black SUV, so I step up and take a seat. The door closes behind me, and I’m hit with an odd sensation. The faint smell of leather and men’s cologne surrounds me, and I realize I haven’t been in a car in half a decade. The windows are heavily tinted, but I see Gabriel talking with the driver outside my door. His posture is impeccable, his stance self-assured and confident. He rounds the back of the vehicle and climbs into the seat opposite mine, attention on the phone in his hand—another thing I haven’t seen since before the Reckoning.
My stomach lurches as the car pulls away, the feeling of a moving vehicle foreign after so long. I look out the window to avoid getting motion sick, watching as the life I’ve grown accustomed to fades and the iron gates close behind us.
Gabriel shifts next to me, sliding his phone into his pocket before turning to look at me. I can feel his gaze on the side of my face, studying me. “Delilah.”
I flinch, a deep, gaping wound long-buried opening upon hearing my given name for the first time in five years. “Yes, sir?”
“Look at me,” he commands.
I reluctantly pull my eyes away from the window, meeting his gaze.
“Do you have any questions?” he asks, and while his tone is patient enough, there’s a slight edge to it.
I shake my head no and bring my gaze to my hands in my lap.
He sighs. “There’s nothing you want to ask me?”
I swallow, wondering if this is a test of sorts. Of course I have questions. I just don’t know if it’s appropriate to ask them. “How—” I clear my throat. “How old are you?”
His face remains impassive. “Twenty-three.”
Seems young to be made a lord,I think.
“Anything else?”
“Where are we going?” I can’t help but look back out the window, having been confined to the same few acres of land for the last several years.
“Home. About an hour from here.”
I nod, even though I don’t even know wherehereis. The road is paved but forested, huge green trees and lush vegetation as far as the eye can see. Soft, rhythmic clicks come from the other end of the bench, which tells me Gabriel’s pulled his phone back out, and I silently wonder if this is as awkward for him as it is for me. But he seems perfectly comfortable in his own skin, if not a little serious. If anything, he seems disinterested, like gaining a wife is a symbol of status and nothing more, which, maybe it is.
Soon, the dull whir of the wheels on the road and my exhaustion catch up to me, and I drift off with my forehead resting against the window.
A hand squeezes my thigh. “Delilah.”
Hearing my name again jump-starts my heart, and my eyes snap open. I sit up so fast my head spins before I turn to Gabriel with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t accept my apology. “We’re home.”
I look back out the window to find a boxy, contemporary home. It’s painted white with black trim, and the house is surrounded by a perfectly manicured lawn with beautiful flowers and small trees. The driver opens my door for me and I step out onto the gravel driveway. Gabriel leads me up the walkway with a hand on the small of my back. My jaw practically hits the floor as the oversized wooden door swings open. The interior is impeccably clean, decorated in a way that I can only describe as opulent. “You livehere?” The words slip past my lips before I slap my hand over my mouth.
He’s unamused. “Welive here.”
I take off the one pair of shoes I own—though my stockings keep my bare feet covered, as always—and follow him up the grand staircase, gawking at the chandelier that hangs over the foyer and the massive, abstract paintings that seem to take up entire walls. I nearly sigh in ecstasy as my feet step onto the plush carpet of the upper level. The Institute doesn’t have any carpet; only hard, cold flooringthroughout the entire building, and the squishy padding beneath my feet automatically makes me feel more at home.
We come to a large bedroom—a suite, I suppose—where Gabriel sits on a cushioned bench at the foot of the king-sized bed, bending over to untie his shoes. When he sits back up, he points at the attached bathroom. “You can shower in there. Don’t bother dressing afterwards.”
My heart starts racing. In all the excitement of the day, I had almost forgotten about my “wifely duties”. I try to smile and head into the bathroom on shaky legs. The walk-in shower is just as luxurious as the rest of the house, but I barely notice as I wash my hair and body with trembling hands. I grab what looks to be an unused towel and dry off, combing through my tangled hair with my fingers. I do as I was told—partly, at least—and exit the bathroom still wrapped in the towel.
Gabriel sits on the bed in nothing but his underwear. I notice he has a small, white scar on his hairless chest—aB>—and while he looks much younger this way, his nudity only serves to elevate my nerves. “Drop the towel, Delilah.”
I hesitate for the briefest of moments before obeying his command, but still cross my arms over my bare chest, unable to look him in the eyes.
“Come over here.” His voice sounds impatient.
