The King's Spinster Bride, (Royal Wedding #1)(19)

“And this is what you want, too?”

Frustrated, I grunt at her. “I’m not sure why you are so convinced that I do not know what I want.”

“Because you could have a much younger wife—” she begins.

I groan. Not this again. I grab my regal bride by the waist—she is wearing Yshremi garb today, I see, the colors pale and milky and there are far too many layers—and heave her onto my shoulder, like the barbarian she thinks I am.

Halla squeaks in protest, her legs kicking once. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to show you just how seriously I take this marriage.” I turn to face Pen and Ishera. “What room has been set up for the ceremony?”

Ishera smirks at me and gestures ahead. “Down this hall. Double doors.”

I stalk in the direction she points, hauling my bride with me. I have dreamed of this moment for years, and to see the hesitation on Halla’s face stirs my temper…and a hint of worry. As a Cyclops bride, she can back out of our wedding at any time if she does not find me to be an amenable groom. I don’t want to give her a chance to think about this and talk herself out of it.

The time to begin the ceremony is now. “Come, Halla.”

“Do I have any choice?” she asks, but she doesn’t sound irritated. Rather, she sounds amused, as if my arrogance and impatience is endearing to her. It’s just another reason why I know we will be a good match.

I storm down the hall and make my way to the chamber that has been established for such a ceremony. In Cyclopae, our people live in tents and so a special tent is used for wedding rituals. We brought such a tent from our homelands, but I do not want Halla to feel even more out of place than she already does. I need her to feel comfortable, because what I am about to do to her is going to be very new. I don’t want her getting skittish and crying off.

I don’t know how much she knows of men, or if she knows anything at all. The thought is both incredibly appealing and intimidating. I’ve never tasted a woman’s cunt, because I wanted to wait for her. I know from talking with other warriors that not every woman responds the same, and so I am prepared to lick and pleasure her for as long as it takes to ensure that she enjoys herself.

The pleasure, I think, will be mine as well. I’ve hungered to taste her.

I push into the room and the doors fly open, banging against the wall. Yshremi servant girls squeal in surprise and hurry out of the room, their heads bent. I glance around at the chamber. It is…well, it is ridiculous. Thick silks hang from the walls like banners of conquest, and flower petals of every color imaginable have been strewn about. In the corner, incense burns under a small altar to Magra, goddess of fertility. A large upraised platform in the center of the room has white furs piled upon it, and above the bed—because I suppose that must be a bed—is the banner that proclaims the unity of our two houses.

“Is…that a cheese tray?” Halla asks.

I turn to look. “Yes, it is.” Along with wine and fruit. Gods above, do they think she’s going to need a snack while I feast on her? Ishera giggles, and I turn to glare at the Cyclops warrior. She goes quiet, her lips twitching. I set my bride down gently, then shut the doors behind us.

The moment the doors are shut, Ishera and Penella move to opposite sides of the room and sit on low stools left there for them. They avert their eyes to give us the proper amount of privacy. Halla and I are alone, in a way. I know Penella and Ishera will say nothing of what transpires in this room. I have chosen them precisely for such a thing. I turn to Halla, who’s fussing with her skirts and adjusting her clothing. She looks nervous. I gather her hands in mine. “Shall I tell you more about this portion of the ceremony?”

“I admit I’m curious,” she tells me, and her face grows pink. “About the ritual of it, of course.”

I grin. “Of course.”

She opens her mouth to say something else, and then breaks off, flustered. “I thought yesterday might be the most challenging part of this marriage ceremony,” Halla admits, her voice soft. “But I viewed that as a battle. This is…different.”

I feel the same, in a sense. This is more intimate. Yesterday was a performance for her people and mine. Today is about her and me. I put my hands on her hips and steer her toward the fur bedding. “The story has it that the first cyclops king, Liandros, searched far and wide for a bride worthy of his line. He was known through many kingdoms as the finest warrior and none could best him in battle. He met many women, but none were able to withstand his fierce personality, and he wanted a bride that would challenge him.”

“And did he find her?”

I caress Halla’s cheek and love that she leans in to my touch. “He did. Right in his own tribe. One of his childhood friends, Siara, had become a warrior and given her eye to the god while Liandros was away on a journey. He returned and was smitten by her, but Siara would not have him. Instead, she demanded to know what he would bring to the marriage bed. He grew angry and ripped off her clothing in front of the entire tribe.”

“He sounds awful.” Her nose wrinkles daintily.

I laugh. “Liandros was not known for his patience. But he swore he would have Siara. She was angry at him after he shamed her, so he demanded to know what would change her mind. She told him if he could please her in bed with his hands tied behind his back, she would reconsider. He agreed and went to her bedchamber, and she refused to take his pants off for him. So Liandros was…creative. And his bride-to-be was very pleased.” I caress her cheek. “So it is tradition for a Cyclops warrior to please his bride in bed before the final ceremony.”