Page 24

Does that mean I’m going to let her tell me that I can’t touch her? I’m a cruel bastard, but I don’t ever want her to be afraid of me. So, instead of reminding her that she is my wife, I decide to play this little game of Order politics with her.

“So you know about the Offerings’ responsibilities to their Owed. Great. Then you’ll know that you get your own room if you want it, but you have to spend one night a week in my bed with me.”

There are no rules about what happens in the marriage bed; at least, not in the Order’s charter. I’d be naive if I said there aren’t husbands who simply take what they want from their wives. It happens, and like murder, it’s not necessarily a crime in the Order’s eyes as long as the Offering is unharmed.Forcingyour wife, leaving her in pain… thatcanbe grounds for an intervention by Jack and his council.

Not that I would do that. When I have Loni again, it’ll be because she invited me in. Still, I understand the rule about making it so that an Offering must spend at least one night a week in her husband’s bed. The whole purpose of pairing up an Offering and an Owed is because the Order insists on matching bloodlines and creating future members.

They want us to fuck so that we have kids. Me? I just want Loni where she belongs.

She can’t fight me on this. Just like how a wife can claim her husband isn’t worthy of her, an Owed can give up his Offering if she doesn’t do her part. She signed her life away to saveher father’s. Something tells me she’ll do the same thing if it’s threatened again.

If there’s one thing the Order of the Owed knows, it’s how to hit you where it hurts. Jack won’t threaten Loni to get her to fall in line. He’ll threaten her father.

And he definitely knows how to get me to do what’s expected of me…

When she doesn’t argue, I say, “Pick a day.”

Loni doesn’t hesitate. “Monday.”

Smart. Today is Tuesday, and while I’d put money down that Desmond purposely arranged for an unusual Tuesday wedding, believing that he could takemyprincess and make her his wife without me ever finding out, it makes sense that Loni would choose Monday as our night. It’s the furthest from Tuesday, and she probably thinks she can figure a way out of this before then.

Not gonna happen. I let her get away from me once. I had every intention of waiting out the clock, going after her again once Jack couldn’t use his position to stop me—or punish Loni formyinsolence—but once I knew that Desmond was trying to steal her out from under my nose?

All bets were off.

She is mine.

My bride.

My wife.

My princess…

Mine.

“Tuesday it is,” I agree. “Now, another rule. We have to have at least four meals together throughout the week. You can choose two, and I’ll choose two. Fair?”

“Breakfast counts.”

“I’m not really a morning person. I don’t do breakfast.”

A hint of triumph flashes across her face. “If you miss it, that’s not my problem.”

A hint of triumph that’s there and gone again, all while I try to hide mine.

She remembers. She doesn’t like that she does, but she remembers enough about me that I was shit until I had my morning coffee and cigarette, even back during my high school days.

She wants to have breakfast with me, though?

Oh, I’ll be there.

That thought makes me realize that I haven’t had a celebratory smoke yet. I didn’t want to do so in the car in case the smoke bothered Loni, but inside of the house, with the air purifiers running, it should be fine.

Reaching into my suit jacket pocket, I pull out my cigarette case. I pop it open, take out one of my smokes, then swap the case for the lighter engraved with my initials: AJH.

Loni watches me closely. Her pretty hazel eyes flicker from the unlit cigarette in my hand to the ashtray on my coffee table. It’s empty. Clean. Still, there’s no denying what the heavy crystal ornament with the dip in the middle for ash is.

Her nose wrinkles. “You still smoke?”