As Wrath gave the cue, John leaned in and pressed his lips to Xhex's; then he stepped back and took off the jeweled belt and the robe. He was smiling like a motherfucker as he gave them over to Tohr and Fritz brought forward the table with the bowl of salt and the silver pitcher of water on it.
Wrath unsheathed his black dagger and said in a loud voice, "What is the name of your shellan?"
To all and sundry, John signed, She is called Xhexania.
With Tohr's guiding hand, the king carved the first letter, right over the tattoo John had gotten. And then the other Brothers followed suit, marking across the ink in his skin, the blades of the Brotherhood cutting him along not just the four Old Language symbols, but the scrollwork the tat artist had drawn. With every slice, he bore down onto the depiction of the apple tree, taking the pain with pride, refusing to let even a silent hiss escape his lips--and after each letter or swirl, he looked up to Xhex. She was standing at the forefront of the females and the other males, her arms locked over the bodice of the dress, her eyes grave, but approving.
When the salt hit his fresh wounds, he gritted his teeth so hard, his jaw cracked under the strain, the sound cutting through the dripping of the water. But he didn't gasp or mouth a curse even as the agony lanced through him and made his vision fuzz out.
As he straightened his torso on his hips, the war cry of the Brotherhood and the soldiers of the house echoed all around and Tohr blotted the raw design with a stretch of white linen. After the Brother was finished, he put the cloth into a black lacquered box and gave it to John.
Rising up off his knees, John approached Xhex with the swagger of a male in his full prime--who'd just been through the gauntlet and rocked it just fine, thank you very much. In front of her, he knelt back down, dropped his head, and held the black box up for her to take or refuse at her will. Tradition said if she accepted it, she accepted him.
She didn't even wait a heartbeat.
The weight was relieved from his hold and he looked up. Those beautiful red tears of hers were in her eyes as she cradled the box with his pledge to her against her heart.
As the assembled cheered and clapped, John burst to his feet and swept her and that big, gorgeous red dress right up into his arms. He kissed her hard and then, in front of the king and his sister and his best friends and the Brotherhood, he carried his female straight up those stairs she'd come down.
Yeah, there was a feast in their honor about to break out. But the bonded male in him needed to do a little marking--then they'd come down for food.
He was halfway to the top when Hollywood's voice sounded out. "Oh, man, I want mine done over with some of that curlicue crap."
"Don't even think about it, Rhage," was Mary's response.
"Can we eat now?" Lassiter asked. "Or is anyone else turning themselves into sushi?"
The party started to get rolling, voices and laughter and the beat of Jay-Z's "Young Forever" filling the space. At the head of the stairs, John paused and looked down. The sight below, coupled with the female in his arms, made him feel as though he'd climbed a great mountain and had finally, inexplicably, unbelievably gotten to the top.
Her husky voice sealed the deal on his hard-on: "You just going to stand around, or did you bring me up here for a good reason?"
John kissed her, slipping his tongue between her lips, penetrating her. He kept at it as he walked her down to his--
Their room.
Inside, he set her down on the bed and she stared up at him, looking as if she were more than ready for what he was going to give her.
Except she seemed surprised when he just turned away.
But he had to present her with the gift he'd bought.
When he came back to the bed, he had the red bag from Reinhardt's with him.
I was raised human, and when they do their matings, the male gives the female a token of affection. Abruptly, he got nervous. I hope you like it. I tried to do you right.
Xhex sat up and her hands shook a little as she took out the long, thin box. "What did you do, John Matthew--"
Her gasp as she cracked the lid was too frickin' fabulous.
John reached out and took the thick chain off the velvet nest. The square diamond set in the middle of the platinum links was six carats--whatever that meant. All he cared about was that the damn stone was big enough and bright enough and sparkly enough to be seen from goddamn Canada.
Just in case any males saw her and maybe had a head cold or something, he wanted it to be known that she was taken. And if John's bonding scent didn't reach their noses, the flash of that rock sure as shit would bounce off their retinas.
I didn't get you a ring because I know you're going to be fighting and won't want your hands encumbered. And if you like it, I'd love it if you'd wear it all the time--