SUNG
At first, he worried she was too weak for the smoke and had been overcome. Feeling and rippling in his arms had been intoxicating even without the smoke. But when he was forced to give her up to the males, every instinct in him roared against it. Wrong, wrong, wrong!
It had been an act of sheer will to let her go instead of pressing closer. But he knew they needed this: his people, him, and Joyce.
Everyone needed to know where they stood. And the ceremony would provide that.
As long as she did not lose her mind.
His eyes followed her, the eye at the centre of a storm of male bodies, hands and smiles. At first, she gave herself up, swaying and dancing, her arms over her hands, sliding on the nearest shoulder, whomever it might be.
Despite the smoke, he tensed, and only the restraining hand of Erwin on his arm kept him from diving in and ruining his mating ceremony.
"Caution, brother," Erwin murmured, his fingers tight on Sung's bicep. "I know it is hard, but just watch. And let your scent go all to her."
Sung grunted. If it were not for the smoke, the entire city would be smelling him by now: his frustration, tension, and desire.
One of the men wrapped a hand possessively at her waist, and Sung snarled.
Erwin stepped into his eye line and would not move until Sung started to meet his eye.
"We all went through it, Sung. I will admit that I doubted your commitment; I thought this was a convenience. Or a plot, but I can see and smell it in you. Be well, brother. Watch, call to her."
Then, with a hand of comradery right where Sung's shoulder met his neck, that also just happened to be placed perfectly to catch him should he try to move. Erwin turned him to face where Joyce was, now even more surrounded as even the younger, unestablished males began to stalk her.
Sung's entire body went rigid.
Sung wanted to tear every man's throat out, but Joyce seemed to find a coherent thought for the first time. She turned her head as one male trailed his fingers through her hair. She was searching for something. Sung swallowed, silently pleading with her to look in his direction.
And she did; finally, her eyes caught on his and widened as another male, one of Erwin's warriors, stepped between them, so tall he blocked her view. He swayed momentarily and seemed to lean into her ear, but then she appeared, dancing around him, her steps lost and shaky. Another man slid into her path, his hand at her waist and neck, and she paused, looking at him, distracted. But as he rolled his hips and pulled her in, she slipped around him and came forward again.
Again and again, the men tried to tempt, distract, and seduce her. But like a thread braided between sticks, she always found a way around them, or between them, until there were no doubts she was walking towards Sung. And with every step, her eyes cleared, and her legs became stronger.
Sensing the shift in her, how she had found her focus, the males stopped stroking and tempting her. Instead, they began to circle, creating a barrier she would struggle to reach him. They closed the gap the first time she tried to slide between them; instead, she glared at them and pushed one aside.
"Good girl… that is it," Sung murmured under his breath, letting her see him watch and want her close.
Erwin clapped him on the shoulder and chuckled.
"Good luck, my friend," he said.
"For what?" Sung said without taking his eyes off Joyce.
"For surviving the wrath of that woman when she sees you pawed by half the city," he laughed.
"I will wait; what?" Sung tore his eyes away from Joyce to find Erwin grinning at him, tipping his head to their right, where a dozen females prowled closer with every breath.
Damn! He had forgotten about that part.
The wolves were always the first to stake their claims. When the first female reached him, she was a lupine. She didn't touch him immediately but looked at him through her lashes and swayed, bringing her body close to his. Her breasts barely brushed his abdomen as she turned, then let her backside rest against his groin as she arched back against him, humming her approval.
Sung had thought himself virtually untouched by the smoke, but his skin responded to the touches. Dramatically, he groaned as the woman growled in her throat and slid one of her hands between them. He caught her wrist only just in time.
But even as she snarled her displeasure at his rejection, four other hands landed on his shoulders, back, and hair.
Where the males had tried to seduce Joyce, to tempt her, the females were far more forward, knowing that his flesh would betray him. One of them had even approached bare from the waist up, one hand circling her breast as she stared at him with a wicked smile.
Sung groaned and tore his eyes away, searching for Joyce, who was still navigating through her sea of bodies. Joyce was now almost through all the men, so those at the back of the crowd were giving up and beginning to stand back and watch.
But then, just as their eyes met and Joyce's flashed with relief, Sung felt a hand between his legs and snarled, whirling to find the violator.
JOYCE
When the smoke poured over them, she found Sung's touch electrifying, then he disappeared, and her body betrayed her. She had been distracted by the other men whose eyes were lit up, their hands trailing over her skin and hair, and that tingling was delicious. But their touch lacked the thrill she had found in Sung's, and she wanted it back.
She had been confused, turning to find him, but he was gone, and another set of eyes, another pair of hands had found her. It was distracting, but not for long. She pushed past, weaved through, always looking for him. It was as if she could sense his presence. Somehow, she had known what direction to take even when she could not see him. Even when the touches of the males were alight on her skin, something inside kept tugging her towards him.
Then their eyes met, and she took her first deep breath since the smoke began. Something in her chest tugged, and a yearning bloomed inside her.
She took another step, beginning to smile, but suddenly another man was in the way, this one more insistent. It took her a moment to find a way around him. But after him, another male stood shoulder to shoulder, forcing her to find a way through.
And when she finally did, Sung was surrounded. There were women everywhere close to him, five or six deep, and those closest to him pawed at him as if he were a toy, their hands on his shoulders, sliding down his back, even in his hair!
Joyce stumbled forward, intending to push her way through that pull within her, yanking now, demanding that she gets closer. But when she reached the circle of women, those closest turned on her, hissing, growling, eyeing her. They would have had their ears flat against their heads if they had been cats.
And they spoke in hushed whispers and muttered curses.
"Weak woman, he is not for you; he needs someone so much stronger than you."
"You do not belong here. We will make sure you never succeed."
"Human woman, you do not have what it takes to handle a king!"
"Child. You are nothing but a child."
"A coward, that is what you are, taking our king through deception and fear!"
On and on and on, her worst fears, thoughts and her confusion, all whispered in her ear, hissed to her heart. And Joyce felt herself want to falter and question.
She searched for Sung, but most of the women were so much taller than her that she was pushing between them on instinct alone.
Then, suddenly, there was a roar from the centre, a raging snarl, and the circle of women loosened for a moment. Joyce saw her chance and darted through a small gap between two women who were so broad that they looked like males from the back.
The circle closed again quickly, but Joyce could see him now, his eyes wide and darting as he whirled and cuffed at hands that reached for him. He turned from naked bodies that wanted to press against him and always, his eyes, left and right until they landed on her and they spoke her name.
She could not hear him over the women surrounding her, but she saw his mouth make her name and sighed, pushing forward again.
Then a pair of lips pressed against her ear.
"A lovesick fool with no spine, the wolves would end you the first chance we get!" the voice hissed.
Joyce hesitated, turning to find the woman who had spoken, but there were several so close they could have leaned in and, all of them shifting to try to stand between her and Sung, their eyes narrowed and sharp.
She had seen those looks before and knew what they meant. It seemed the language between women did not change between worlds.
These women wanted him for themselves. And they would fight to keep her away from them.
She stopped mid-step and looked for Sung again, finding him with her eyes, his wild and rolling. But when he caught her, he paused; there was a crystalline moment between them, eyes locked, where it felt like something in him spoke to something in her.
But then a woman, her back to Joyce, slid her hand down his chest, and Joyce saw Sung's body recoil when she found what she was looking for. He roared again, twisting. But now there were more women, all holding him, stroking him, pressing against him. He was overrun with insufficient hands to remove all those touching him.
Joyce trembled.
She felt the violation, the sheer injustice that, as a male, he was expected to take that kind of abuse without complaint.
A noise tore out of her throat, and she shoved forward, heedless of the hands that gripped her arms or the body trying to stand in her way. She called his name and fought, tooth and nail, scratching, shoving, kicking, to force the woman back.
She could see his rigid shoulders, the veins popping in his neck, on his arms. And Sung fought too. He fought, but with concern, not to harm those abusing him. He fought for his freedom but not at the cost of the women hurting him.
Well, fuck that, Joyce thought and threw herself into the fray.
She pulled hair, scratched, and took more than one elbow to the ribs and gave a couple of her own until there was only one woman between her and Sung.
Two women on either side fought to keep hold of his arms so the woman in front could kiss and lick at his chest and neck. He roared, and something in Joyce snapped.
She grabbed the woman by the hair and threw her to the ground, putting herself between the woman and Sung.
"Keep your hands off, my mate!" she screamed in a voice she did not recognise. Many of those watching stepped back. The two women who held Sung's arms went wide-eyed as Joyce turned on them. "Let him go."
The woman on the left dropped his arm immediately, bowing to her. The woman on her right bared her teeth and hissed a curse.
Joyce sucked in a breath and more smoke with it and turned to Sung.
"Do you want her?" she yelled over the rushing in her ears.
"No!" Sung roared back. Joyce's heart leapt, but she turned back to the woman who was almost a foot taller and stronger.
Then she remembered what Sung had said. Listen to your instincts.
Her instinct was to kick this woman's ass for touching her mate. No one touched her mate except her.
It filled her then, the yearning, the thrill and the fire-eating rage. Joyce's chin dropped, but her eyes never left the woman's.
The woman crouched to meet her but had both hands busy, holding Sung's arm. Joyce snarled at her and stalked forward, eyes locked on the woman with her teeth gritted but not looking away.
SUNG
Watching Joyce stare down a dominant lioness was the sexiest thing Sung had ever seen. As she stalked forward, eyes flaming, hips rolling like a big cat's, he wanted to lift her into his arms and take her back to the cave and to hell with the ceremony. And her scent… she was always delicious, but there was a new thread now, something hot and prickly, something that wanted.
His own body responded. He was panting and not because of fighting off women. A growl vibrated in his throat, and Joyce's skin pebbled; he could see it and smell that high in her, the wave of desire and possessiveness she was giving herself to.
He could not stop the mating huff from his throat, the deepest of his calls and one he had never made before. The entire clearing hushed.
The call erupted from his throat so deep it came from his toes. It ordered the other males around the fire to hear and submit. They all fell back, away from Sung and Joyce, giving the women room. Both of the females were giving up too. A moment later, only the lioness that challenged Joyce remains. As Sung would have liked to tear his arm out of the female's grip, this had to be Joyce's fight. He watched her continue to stalk towards the woman touching him, repeated the call, and saw her chest rise and fall in response.
She padded over to the woman, so close her scent was strong despite the smoke, and Sung huffed again. Without taking her eyes off the other female, she lifted a hand to his chest and spoke through her teeth.
"Let go of him," she said through her teeth.
"Why?"
Joyce blinked. "Because he is my mate. You are handling my mate as he belongs to you."
"But you do not want him," the woman growled.
"You know nothing about what I want," Joyce shot back.
"You would not even fight for him!"
"I am now."
The lioness sneered, her eyes narrowed, and her hands clawed into his forearm hard enough to leave half-moon cuts where her nails pierced his skin. "He deserves more than a queen in name only. He is king. He deserves a mate, a wife, a partner and -"
"He will choose for himself what he wants. We are talking about what I want. And I want your hands off him. Right now!"
Sung felt… proud. Joyce stood, her hands in fists, her chest and shoulders heaving with her breath, and the lioness trembled. She was the dominant female of the pride, a wise woman, and one of his dearest friends, but Joyce didn't know that.
She only knew what she felt and what the smoke was giving her the courage to speak. He hoped she would choose him truthfully, not just in name.
"I do not want to see more blood on the ground tonight," Joyce snarled. "But if that is what it will take-"
"It won't," his friend sighed. "But know that you choose a good man, one of the best of our kind. If you do not appreciate him, there are many that would happily take your place."
Joyce stepped forward so they were chest to chest, though she was several inches shorter.
"Let them try."
And her scent was rock-hard. Certain, unshakeable.
Sung roared, and his people called back, breaking into a shuffling dance that circled them as the lioness faded into the crowd, and he pulled Joyce into his chest.
She was trembling. Not untouched by fear, he realised, but staring it down and moving ahead anyway.
True courage.
"You are amazing," he whispered into her ear. He pulled back far enough to meet her wide eyes as the people circled them, shifting, calling and weaving, leaving a few feet of space around them.
Traditionally, the dance recognised the couple's belonging to the people but even more to each other. He knew she did not appreciate what was happening but found he did not care as she never took her eyes off him, and she let her head drop back as he buried his hands in her hair and kissed her open-mouthed.
She clung to his shoulders and kissed him back, and the crowd called again.
***
JOYCE
She didn't know what was happening to her. She felt driven to be close to him, tingling at his touch, desperate for his kiss. She did not know this man, yet somehow, she did. Something in him called to her, and she could not deny it.
When he kissed her tenderly and took in the same breath, her knees shook even worse than the rest. She wished they were alone. She wished she understood what was happening to her body. But she was sure of one thing. She did not want to be away from him. Not yet.
So, when he finally groaned and broke off the kiss, roaring to his people, they all shouted, cawed or growled back. She dropped her forehead to his broad, flat chest, letting her hands trail up his sides.
She felt him twitch under her touch, and a spear of desire shot through her belly. It took her breath. Everything in her yearned to lean into him, get closer, and touch him more, yet something held her back. This place was impossible; everything that had happened in the past few hours… she could not trust anything, not herself.
As if he felt her falter, Sung wrapped his arms around her and shifted her closer. She could feel his heartbeat against her temple as their chest rose and fell in time.
There, inside his arms, with her eyes closed, the drums. The colours in the dark all faded until she was aware of his heartbeat, how his skin felt under her fingertips, and his warmth in the chilly night. She felt peaceful for the first time she had opened her eyes in the clearing for the rite.
Then he stroked a hand through her hair, and her skin came alive again. She wanted him, she swallowed hard, but it was true.
She wanted him.
She had never really wanted a man before.
How had this happened? Was it just because of the smoke?
Unable to answer the questions for herself, she pulled her head back. He released her immediately, but she did not step out of his massive arms. She just leaned back to meet his eyes. He stared down at her.
The feral light in his eyes had only increased during the ceremony, but his tenderness was also in his touch and gaze. He used one finger to draw her hair back from her face and looked a question at her, his nostrils flaring.
"I am glad it is you," she whispered.
He blinked, and his bottom lip fell open. He searched her eyes as if not sure he had understood. But she could not explain it. It was just… true.
So, she dropped her head to his collarbone again and sighed.
His fingers trailed up her neck, raising goosebumps in their wake, his arm cradling her back. She felt his chin resting on her head and suddenly wanted to cry.
What was happening to her?
She shivered, and his arms tightened.
"Do you wish to leave?" He asked quietly, his voice a deep, rich hum in his chest under her ear. She nodded. "Then you need to be strong for a few more minutes, Joyce?" She sighed heavily and raised her head to look at him. His forehead was lined with concern, but his eyes were gentle. "We have to fight our way out," he said with a lopsided smile. When she tensed, he held her tighter. "Not like that. Just… a show, I think… Maybe you should get on my back and let me do the swinging? Do you have enough strength left to hold on?" She did not, but she would do it anyway. But her voice failed her. She nodded, and a shadow passed behind his eyes, but he touched her face. "Just a few more minutes, then we will be in the quiet," he said.
When she nodded again, he sighed and let her go. She felt cold and wanted him back immediately.
When she nodded again, he sighed and let her go. She felt cold and wanted him back immediately, but he dropped to a crouch in front of her, one hand splayed on the ground to brace himself, the other leaning on his thigh. He looked up at her with such delight that she was breathless.
He was a massive man and muscular, every part of his body honed for strength. And he crouched in front of her like a child waiting for orders in a game.
Joyce blinked. She was suddenly overcome by a fierce feeling of deja-vu. She had seen him in this position before and had known him in a different time and place… but it was gone as fast as the feeling came.
"Joyce, are you well?" he murmured.
She blinked and returned to the moment, realising he was waiting for her.
"I am sorry," she breathed. "I just…"
"Do not worry. Hop on; I will get you out of here," he said with a wicked grin so adorable that she could not help but smile back.
Circling his large frame, she looked at his back sceptically. Even crouched, he was huge, and it was not like she had a step ladder. She would become aware of the people nearby, circling, watching and smiling.
Then Sung put his free hand backwards, cupped as if to take her knee, and he said over the stomp and shuffle of the feet around them.
"Just lean into my back, and I will lift you."
Joyce blew a piece of hair out of her face and, for a moment, was struck by just how beautiful he was, his broad back lined in muscle, that divot down his spine.
If the girls from her classes could see him, they would shriek at her to stop delaying. She knew it.
For once, she was going to listen.
Swallowing hard, she leaned into his back, putting her arms around his neck and her chin where his neck met the broad plane of his shoulder.
His fingers slid from her ankle, up the back of her leg, to the knee, and then he stood, pulling her higher as he reached his full height.
She hugged his warmth and giggled, but her head spun from the smoke, and her body shook.
"Do not worry, Joyce; I will not let you fall." His voice rumbled against her breasts, and she swallowed for different reasons feeling him tense beneath her. "hold on!" was all he said.
***
SUNG
He could feel her breasts pressed against his back, and desire rose like a fire in his belly. As soon as he had her secure and began to move, the crowd turned to face them.
The fight to leave the ceremony was traditional and supposed to be little more than play. But Sung noticed more than one face set in disapproval or anger, and more than one wolf snuck an elbow or fist to his ribs hard enough to leave a bruise.
Joyce buried her face in his neck and just held on.
It only took a few minutes for him to break through the circling mass and reach the edge of the fire's light and the smoke. When he did, he turned and roared, and his people answered mostly with genuine excitement. Then he turned for the path to his cave, made eye contact with Erwin as he stepped out of the smoke, and started to jog through the trees.
His head cleared immediately, but he could feel Joyce's shaking increase the closer they got to the cave. For the first time, it occurred to him that the smoke might affect a human differently than it did the Anima. He prayed she was not overcome and made a mental note to have one of the guards call a healer if her head did not clear soon.
It was only minutes until they rounded the crevice in the mountain and his clearing opened before them that he considered putting her down. Still, he enjoyed how she clung to his neck. And the way she was trembling, he wondered whether she could keep her footing without help.
So, after a quick turn to lock eyes with Erwin and make sure the guards were in place to guard the cave, he ducked under the lip of the cave mouth and stepped inside. He did not let Joyce down until they had made it to the great room, and he could slide her onto the wide bench seat in front of the fire.
When seated, he knelt before her, touching her face to test for fever but just because he wanted to touch her.
She continued to tremble in waves, but her eyes were clear and free of tears, for which he was grateful. She had been through a lot.
Then she met his eyes, and something in her gaze raised his hackles and made him want to growl to check for an intruder. But when he moved to stand up, to turn and look, she put a hand to his face and looked into his eyes.
"No, don't go anywhere," she whispered.
He froze, still kneeling in front of her searching her eyes that were red from the smoke, but not badly so. When she did not speak, he cupped her face again.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded. "I shouldn't be. But I am. I feel… safe when you are close, Sung," she whispered. "What is happening to me? Why do I feel like I know I can trust you? I don't even know you! Was there something in that smoke that-"
"Shhhh, no, sweet one. It heightens your senses and relaxes you. But it does not change you. I promise you have not been tricked. Is your head clear now? Can you think?"
"Yes," she breathed, staring at her fingers as she curled them, her nails catching on the stubble on his jaw. "That's why I am wondering… the way I feel… the way I'm thinking… it doesn't make sense."
Sung chuckled, and her eyes flashed. He could smell desire spike in her and resolved to chuckle far more often in her company.
"I told you to follow your instincts," he said quietly. "That's all you are doing."
Her breathing picked up, though he doubted she would know he was aware of it. She blinked and swallowed, then moved her hands to his bare chest, her fingers trailing from his jaw to the flat spot right over his heart, and she followed them with her eyes.
Sung's breathing may have also picked up a little under her touch.
"Why did you choose me?" she asked quietly, then brought her eyes up to meet his.
Sung went very still. It was an opportunity to tell her of their history to give her the gratitude she was due for the kindness and love she had shown a young and frightened heir to the throne. And again, he almost spoke the words.
But the lines on her forehead spoke of the stress she still felt.
The shadows in her eyes shouted her questions.
And her human nature, usually so cynical and suspicious of anything outside their standard order, would tell her it was impossible that he had not known they were bringing her. Though it was true.
No, she needed to know Anima better before he explained that.
She was still frowning at him, waiting for an answer. But instead, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.
"You may be different from our kind, Joyce, but you are one of us. I watched the wolf in you make a plan and stick to it. I watched the steed in you push forward even when you were exhausted. And I watched the lion in you roar. Ignore the taunts and questions of my people. They have not yet looked closely enough to see what I see. You will find your place here. You will be an excellent queen."
"But… why me?"
Sung sighed. "I did not choose the sacrifices, Joyce. You can ask any Anima, and they will tell you the clans choose, each in their own way. And the choice of the pure one is always given to the strongest clan below the kings. I did not know you would be in the circle tonight, but once I saw you there… had it been up to me, I would have chosen you then." It was pure truth, but it confused her profoundly, puckering a little V between her brows.
"But… why?"
Sung shrugged. "Who can explain it beyond the creator? Some people are meant to be together. Tonight, we learned that we are. I cannot answer why… I can only tell you that I am certain of it."
"You learned that tonight?" she said, a hint of hope in her tone.
"Didn't you?" he asked softly, surprised by the tenderness in his chest. As if she could bruise him with the wrong answer.
"I thought it was just smoke. I thought it made us all feel… good."
He shook his head. "I have never felt that certainty before. I have been in dozens of ceremonies. Touched hundreds of females with the smoke outside it. Never had trouble controlling myself."
She frowned, and he wondered what he had said wrong.
"What control did you lose?" she asked.
Sung chuckled again. "A dear friend had to put a hand on me to stop me from tearing you out of all those males' grip. He could feel how close I was to the edge. He said he had felt the same way when he and his wife were mated. It is a sign of… rightness."
She nodded, and something in her eased. Sung waited, letting her think through everything she had seen. When her eyes drifted back up to his, he held his breath.
"So, we are married now?" she said, her voice husky.
Sung sucked in his breath and kept his hands clenched on his thighs so he would not grab her. "Yes."
Her eyes cut to his mouth when he spoke, and her desire spiked again. Sung wanted to roar, but he kept himself very still. He did not wish to frighten her. Let her come like the doe in the forest, picking her way carefully, alert.
Her eyes trailed down his neck and chest again to where her hand still rested on him. His skin hummed when she stroked him there, just once. Then she locked eyes with him again.
Sung could barely breathe. But he was unsure if her signs would be like an Anima woman. It was always the females' choice.
Any Anima female would have leapt on him like a frog by now. He had heard that human women were much more careful; they lived in a world where the choice was often taken from them. A thought that made Sung want to bite something.
No, he could not urge her. Had to let her choose for herself.
She dropped her eyes again, watched herself stroke his chest first, then slid her hand up to cup his neck in a way that made him pray she would kiss him. But then she met his eyes again and… nothing.
The silence between them stretched until she finally sighed and pulled her hand back to her lap. It was as if she had turned off a light. Everything in her darkened, and Sung grieved it.
"Thank you… thank you for caring about how I feel. For making me safe," she said quietly, though Sung was off-balance now because she sounded sad.
He curled his hands into fists again, but this time he did it to stop himself from grabbing her and pulling her back to his chest.
What had gone wrong? Had he frightened her? Or was she simply overwhelmed?
"Are you… tired?" he asked uncertainly.
She nodded sadly, still looking at her own hands in her lap.
"I think it would be good to rest," she said.
Sung got to his feet, offered his hand, and led her to the bedroom, where he showed her the sleeping platform attached to his, but it had its level and space.
He thought he caught her looking at the main bed directly above it. But when he looked again, she had turned to the furs he had shown her.
Minutes later, she was snuggled in, one hand under her chin, exclaiming over the furs' softness and warmth.
Sung ached to warm her, but instead, he tucked her in, wished her good rest, and walked to blow out all the candles and lanterns lit in the room.
Her breath became low and even almost immediately. And when he finally crawled his furs, it was with a body aching with frustrated desire and a heart that pounded for all the wrong reasons. He laid back, staring at the high, rock ceiling, one arm curled under his head, letting a low growl of self-loathing shudder in his throat.
She had wanted and chosen him, but she had not offered herself. He reminded himself she was human and would need more time to find her comfort. But deep down, he knew something was wrong. He knew he had scented her desire more than once. And her jealousy when the other females touched him. If she had chosen not to give herself, something was wrong. Something that still frightened her and caused her to be cautious. He would just have to be patient. He rolled over to look at her in the dark; his lion eyes had no trouble making out the peace now on her face. His heart swelled with the urge to protect and bring her to a place where she would look rested when she smiled at him.
But then she rolled over, fluffing the furs as she moved, and her scent washed over him. Sung groaned quietly. His desire for her had reached near-painful proportions. Before he could do anything, he would regret it, or she might fear him. He threw back his furs, grabbed his trousers and ran silently from the cave, fleeing the sight and smell of her so he would not be tempted to reach for her.
When he reached the clearing and had to stop, he had forgotten about the guard; he made an excuse about needing fresh air to clear his head of the smoke. But the men all knew and looked at him, then at each other.
He kept his chin up and his shoulders back as he ordered them to keep guard over her, then disappeared among the trees. But when he was out of sight, he let his body sag, cursing himself for letting the men see that he had left her.
It was not the wedding night he had always envisioned for his life. But, at least, he reminded himself, it was not a wedding night with Lucine as he had feared. Thank the creator for that.
***