Becoming Calder (A Sign of Love Novel)(32)

"Yes, but they're here because they want to be washed clean," I said.
Clive snorted. "The point is, don't go walking around the camp again, Eden. I'll be looking in every night to make sure you're here. Don't do it again or I'll have to mention this to Hector."
I nodded, my head still downcast. When I finally looked up, I found his eyes raking over my body, a dark glint to them. He focused on my breasts for so long I almost brought my arms up to cover them under his scrutiny, but I made myself stay still. A perfect princess.
"Hmm hmm," he said, finally raising his eyes to my face. He pushed a lock of hair behind my ear and I bit down on my tongue to keep myself from spitting at him.
"Such beauty," he hummed. "You're almost eighteen, aren't you, Eden?"
"No. I just turned seventeen."
"Hmm. I can only imagine Hector is impatient for the day you'll become his." He leaned closer so I could smell his stale breath. "You'll be a good wife, won't you, Eden? So lovely. So obedient."
"I'll hardly have time to be a good wife, will I? The floods will come and it will all be over."
Clive leaned back and smiled. "No, just beginning, my lovely. Just beginning." He laughed and caressed my cheek once more and then turned and walked away. I shuddered as I watched him retreat, not understanding what he had meant with his statement. I hurried to my room where I quickly undressed and got in bed.
My dreams were filled with Calder bathed in starlight.




CHAPTER EIGHT


Calder



It rained for the next couple days so I wasn't able to meet Eden at our spring. I actually wasn't able to get out at all. I supposed the gods had decided I needed a mini-vacation and were overseeing my work for me.
Instead, two long days after I'd lain with Eden under the stars, I stood in the doorway of our small, dim cabin and looked up toward what I knew to be Eden's room on the second floor. It was filled with light and I wondered what she was doing up there while I was down here. Was she lonely? Bored? I imagined she was. I imagined standing a ladder against that window, climbing up to her, and then taking her hand as we ran through the warm rain, the smell of apples scenting the air, her dress clinging to her, revealing her pink skin beneath. I groaned. This line of thought was not productive. I had told her we couldn't kiss, that we couldn't be more than friends. But half my mind and my body—certainly my body—didn't seem to agree with that plan. In fact, there seemed to be a full out mutiny to that plan as my thoughts constantly turned to Eden, setting my blood on fire. Several times I had given in to temptation, gone up into the hills and leaned back against a rock, and stroked myself until release flashed through my body, potent and intense. I knew it was sinful, but in the moments right before, it felt necessary, vital to my very survival. That water-cleansing ceremony had its work cut out for it where I was concerned.
"Quit pacing. You're like a caged animal," my mom nagged.
I snorted softly, recalling Xander using those same words a few days before when we'd spoken.
"This damn rain," I muttered, sticking my head out the door, covered by a small wooden overhang.
"You want something to do, I have a hundred cans that need filled with tomatoes," my mom said, looking over her shoulder where she stood at the table. Cans were lined up neatly in front of her as was a large pot of peeled, cooling tomatoes. She was helping stockpile food for the winter months. It didn't get very cold here in the desert, even in winter, but everything had a season and tomatoes only flourished through November.
I breathed out, and reluctantly went to help with the canning. After a few minutes, I said, "Cans aren't provided by nature."
"What?" My mom looked up.
"Hector always says we should use the instruments and materials the gods have naturally provided for us, that using the wicked tools of the big society only corrupts our purity."
My mom didn't acknowledge me for a few minutes, just kept spooning tomatoes into cans. After a bit she said, "We use as little as we can from the big society. Some things simply can't be fashioned from rock, dirt, and tree branches."
"Oh, I see. So when it's convenient, we use what the gods have provided. I didn't get the updated version of the Holy Book. Maybe that's in the new edition," I said sarcastically.
My mom looked up sharply. "Calder! You're being blasphemous." Her voice was a whisper as if someone was listening in—the gods themselves perhaps—although you couldn't hide from the gods.
"We make many, many sacrifices as Hector's people." She waved her hand around the cabin. "No running water, no electricity."