CHAPTER 4: Marked By a Man Who Hates Me

POV: Imani

“Now,” Naomi stated, her tone coming out calm and collected.

The guy from earlier who I now know to be Beckett and Zane’s beta, looked like he wanted to argue. His mouth opened slightly before he stopped himself completely, his eyes moving between Naomi and Zane as though he was trying to decide whether the danger inside the walls should take priority over a wedding. Naomi on the other hand was already in motion, giving orders to a couple of men that were near the doors. The atmosphere in the hall tightened around her, and no one looked interested in pushing back against her authority. Zane’s hand still gripped my wrist tightly, and it was just then I realized I hadn’t pulled away since Beckett had barged into that room on us. I could feel every one of his fingers against my skin, and for some reason, I still hadn’t moved. I should have. I knew I should have, but my body wasn’t listening to that logical part of my brain.

“An unbound alliance is worse than an unknown threat,” Naomi said, directing most of her words at Zane. But she also shot a glance at me when she mentioned the “unknown threat,” making it as clear as daylight that I was simply a piece of the puzzle they were trying to solve. “You understand this. We have to move forward.”

“Naomi,” Beckett started to protest.

“You have two minutes, my lord. So, I recommend you make the most of it.” She said, completely ignoring Beckett.

The wedding I had envisioned suddenly felt very far from the room I was standing in. I was still wearing the clothes I had on when I packed my medical kit back at the place I once called home, and my boots were still dusty from the trip. Across the hall, Corinne had her arms crossed tightly around her, leaning in toward one of the guards. With the way her lips were moving, I assumed she was speaking hurriedly, her red hair falling forward as she kept her voice low, but I focused more on keeping my own hands from trembling than trying to decipher whatever it was that she was saying. I curled my fingers into my palms, pressing my nails into my skin until the shaking eased a bit.

There was no music playing here, no flowers decorating the room, just the flickering firelight and a gathering of people who seemed like they all were less than thrilled to be there. In the midst of it all, Naomi stepped into the space between Zane and me, holding a small iron blade that looked old enough to have been used for this before.

“Right hand,” she instructed.

Zane extended his hand first. He was completely composed, a stark contrast to how he was just minutes earlier when he’d been pacing angrily in the side room, his hands clenching and unclenching as he fought himself hard to control himself. I couldn’t help but feel unsettled by how calm he was now, especially after seeing the anger in his face earlier. I had seen what happened when he lost control, and now I was standing close enough to feel the stark difference in him.

When it got to my turn, my hand felt unsteady as I held it out.

“Ms. Ellis,” Naomi called out, her voice cutting through again, this time softer, almost like she was gently warning me. “Your hand.”

I swallowed, willing myself to focus, and then gave in and offered my hand to her. The cut was quick and precise, much like the countless times I had performed similar procedures on others but had never experienced it on myself. It stung more than I anticipated, and so I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth, my fingers twitching before I was able to force them still. Zane’s palm was waiting, already offered up, and Naomi guided our hands together, then wrapped a dark strip of cloth around our connected wrists, pressing it firmly into place as if she was bandaging a wound instead of sealing a bond between two lives.

“Say the words,” Naomi instructed.

“Uhm, I don’t know the words,” I blurted out before I could stop myself, causing a ripple of amusement to break out through the crowd.

A few people chuckled under their breath, and the realization that I just embarrassed myself caused heat to rise up on my face. Great. Exactly just what I needed.

“Repeat after him,” Naomi said.

Zane locked eyes with me. For a brief moment, there looked to be nothing but weariness in his gaze, the kind that settled into someone’s face after years of having too much placed on their shoulders. Something in the way they looked caught me off guard, and I found myself looking at him differently. I had spent so long thinking of him as the man from just a night that wasn’t so much as important, the stranger whose name I hadn’t known, that I had almost forgotten there had been a life before I had met him. He had been someone’s son once. Someone’s child. Right before all of this had forced him to become the man standing in front of me.

“I take this claim,” he said, his voice coming out low and steady, “not as debt, but as bond.”

“I take this claim,” I echoed after him, my voice much quieter, “not as debt, but as bond.”

“Before witness and blood,” Zane continued.

“Before witness and blood,” I echoed again, my throat tightening as the words left my mouth.

Suddenly, a bolt of heat spread through our joined hands and rushed up my arm. It was sharp, surprising, and not entirely painful. My fingers jerked, and I let out a gasp before I could stop myself, the sound carrying through the silent hall with people watching. Zane’s hand tightened around mine at once, his thumb pressing hard against my skin as his eyes stayed fixed on my face. And I could feel the same sudden tension moving through him.

For one unbearable heartbeat, it wasn’t pain at all. Memories came flooding back in my head without warning, a mattress with a sagging spring, his hand moving through my hair, his voice low in the darkness as he asked me not to vanish out of his sight. My breathing caught, as I continued to stare at him, unable to stop my mind from returning back to that room, that night, and the way I had felt when I thought I would never see him again. His eyes widened slightly, and I knew from the way he was looking at me that that was what was going through his own head too.

Then, like a bolt of lightning the pain came. A sharp jolt of electricity moved from the cut on my palm and spread deeper into my arm, leaving a strange ache behind that disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived. I made a small sound, different from the gasp before, trying to suppress the heaviness I was starting to feel.

Zane’s gaze snapped to mine, intense and focused. “What was that?” he asked, his voice charged with concern.

“Nothing,” I replied, way too quickly.

“That wasn’t nothing,” he insisted.

From across the room from where I was standing, I noticed Corinne’s jaw tighten, her arms pulling even closer against her body as she stared at our joined hands. Her eyes didn’t leave them even when she saw me looking at her, instead, the small crease between her brows deepened as she tried to understand what she was seeing. Naomi, however, wasn’t looking at Corinne. She turned her full attention to me. The expression that was on her face was hard to read. Her eyes moved briefly from my face to our bound wrists before settling back on me, and I knew she was storing the reaction she so badly wanted to give away for later.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Zane murmured, his voice low, and intended for my ears only. His thumb moved against my wrist, slowly and deliberately, as if he needed to reassure himself that I was still here.

“Which part?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t reply to me, but he didn’t need to. The heat from the bond still lingered beneath the cloth around our hands. My pulse kept beating hard against his thumb, and I could feel every small movement of his hand against my skin. Neither of us made the move to pull away first. I should have been thinking about the people watching us, about the danger that was inside these walls, about the fact that I had just been bound to a man I had only ever met once before today. But no, I was standing there with his hand around mine, remembering exactly what his touch had felt like before I had ever known his name.

Naomi took a step back, a faint satisfaction settling across her face as she turned to address the room, marking the end of the ceremony. Just then, an alarm rang, jolting everyone’s attention. It wasn’t a typical bell; it was a horn, blaring three sharp blasts through the big hall that silenced all conversations in an instant. A guard suddenly burst through the doors, running hard, his chest heaving and his face pale.

“East wall’s clear,” he announced. “It never got beyond the tree line. Our patrol turned it back twenty minutes ago.”

It was as if with that a wave of relief moved through the entire hall. Everyone seemed to breathe again at once, the tension easing from their shoulders. Someone even laughed, though the sound came out shaky and nervous. And from the side of my eyes, I saw Beckett visibly relax, and I noticed a hint of satisfaction on Naomi’s face. It seemed as though whatever she had been worried about had just been settled.

But Zane wasn’t taking a breath yet. He was still gripping my wrist tightly, the cloth binding uncomfortable and damp against our skin. I felt something different in his hold now, something that had nothing to do with the door. His thumb pressed hard against the spot where I had felt that strange pain moments ago, and the pressure in it made me wince.

“Say that again,” he commanded the guard without taking his eyes off of me. “It never got past the tree line.”

“No, my lord,” the guard replied, hesitation filling his tone.

“Then it was never inside the wall at all,” Zane insisted.

The guard stood there, his composure faltering. “No, as far as we can tell.”

Despite the guard’s answer, Zane’s grip only grew tighter on me. I could feel my heart racing, responding to the tension radiating off of his body, because I still didn’t understand what he was worried about. Whatever he was trying to confirm, he seemed to already have an idea of what the answer would be.

I swallowed, my gaze dropping briefly to where his thumb remained harshly pressed to leave a bruise against my wrist.

“Then what did I feel?” he murmured, not quite like he was asking a question, and clearly not directed at the guard. His eyes remained locked onto mine, as if I held the key to whatever mystery still lingering in the room.