Page 9 of Star Crossed Delta
A surge of possessiveness and anger surged through him as his cousin’s familiar form loomed over his bride.
Zolan’s presence at their wedding only fueled the fire within him, threatening to consume the momentary peace he’d found for a few moments.
He sucked in air to compose himself, the rage bubbling beneath the surface.
From afar, Zolan raised his head, his eyes locking with Mak’s as he smiled.
His smirk was a taunt, a reminder of the past injustices and betrayals that had festered between them for years.
He bent his head and kissed her hand once more.
Mak clenched his jaw, trying to contain the rising tide of emotions inside him.
The sight of him, his lips on her skin, was like a slap to his face, a blatant display of disrespect that would not go unanswered.
The clap of a heavy hand fell on his shoulder as Kaal and his hermanos, the Signet company and the vanguard of the flotilla, closed ranks around him.
‘Brother,’ Kaal growled into Mak’s ear. ‘Don’t let him get to you.’
‘ Fokk if I’m going to let our age-old enemy one-up us and with an unwanted Lisade bride no less,’ Mak grunted back.
Kaal’s hand gripped Mak’s bicep with brute power.
It kept him from charging toward Zolan without thought. His eyes glinted with concern and a steeled readiness for whatever may come.
Kaal raised his chin. ‘You calm?’
Mak took a deep breath. ‘I’m edgy. He’s challenging me, no doubt, and I want to let loose on him.’
‘If you step to his face in this public venue, you’ll be throwing down the gauntlet. Don’t do it,’ Xander, Mak’s Commander and close friend, warned, ever the peacekeeper.
Mak took an inhale, heart weary, done with keeping up appearances.
The outcome of this wedding ceremony had been a shitshow so far, and he was raging with the wild urge to hurt someone, to make them pay.
Xander, despite being Mak’s Signet leader, had no idea of the Sauvage family skeletons and no clue of the constant saber-rattling that often took place behind their closed doors.
‘If I let him preen about and come within five feet of my ?arim , we look weak before this assembly,’ Mak hissed.
He also spotted a few priests of the Holy See flicking nervous looks between them. They were the keepers of their religious Akkadian-based tradition, and he observed their discomfort at Asivan’s blatant disregard for their Code of Honor.
One of the most controversial was the unspoken rule that no unmarried man was allowed to touch a woman who was wed.
‘I can’t let the challenge remain unmet,’ Mak growled to his brothers.
‘Go,’ Santi rasped. ‘But keep it clean, cabrón .’
‘I will, tis the only thing to do,’ Mak snarled as the eyes of their guests canted back and forth from his cousin and him, tension ratcheting.
Mak forced a tight smile and, masking the turmoil within, he strode forward.
Straight through the throngs that parted like the sea until he reached Saba’s side and placed a possessive hand on his bride’s arm.
Silence fell around them as all eyes were fixed on them.
The whispers of those witnessing more of the infamous enmity between the Asivan and Sauvage clans rippled through the room.
‘Zolan,’ Mak drawled. ‘To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?’
His eyes gleamed with malice as Zolan straightened, his gaze flicking from Mak to his bride with thinly veiled contempt. ‘I’m here to offer my congratulations to the happy couple,’ he replied, though the underlying threat in his tone was unmistakable.
Mak narrowed his eyes at him in silent warning. ‘I don’t remember sending you a wedding invitation,’ he retorted, his voice tinged with iciness, aware he had not indeed sent one.
He swiveled his head towards his wife, arching a brow. ‘ ?arim , one of your first wifely duties then must be to get your husband a visit to his physician,’ Zolan taunted, eyes on Mak. ‘His memory wanes.’
Zolan’s smirk widened, and Mak noted the challenge in his eyes, the unspoken rivalry that had simmered for years.
Mak had the power to shut him down right then; however, this moment was not about their petty grievances, societal scandals, or familial discord, which had plagued them for far too long.
Today was about the union of two people bound together by fate and circumstance, and community.
It was also about the woman standing at his side, her green eyes shimmering with confusion and concern as she glanced between them.
Her body was taut as wire, and her hand trembled under his touch. Perhaps the strain of the day was getting to her.
Despite his savage wrath toward her, she did not deserve public humiliation.
As Zolan’s gaze lingered on his bride, dark emotion flickered in his eyes before he sliced them back to Mak.
His face twisted with bitterness, a rancor that Mak recognized all too well.
He leaned in, his voice dipped for Zolan and him alone. ‘Touch her one more time, come close to her, dare even to breathe the same air she does, and you will die, Asivan.’
Zolan jolted and glared at Mak. ‘Will I now?’ he whispered.
‘Stay back, Asivan.’
‘Or what?’ his cousin hissed.
A wild tear went through Mak, a true fokk-it moment.
An irrational need to inflict pain hit him, and he jerked his chin in a challenge, welcoming the fact that Zolan had provided him with a chance to channel his anger.
He tilted his head and smirked. ‘Or this.’
He straightened up and called out so that the entire assembly might hear.
‘My kinsman Zolan Asivan believes we’ve lost some of our old ways and has reminded me it is long since the Sauvage War Dances were performed at such ceremonies.
He suggests that we revive the tradition, and I, for one, concur. ’
A gasp went through the wedding hall.
The woman beside him took an inhale, her body locking.
Zolan blanched.
Mak narrowed his eyes, lifted a brow, and smirked, baring his gleaming incisors. ‘So with no further delay, the Sauvage Kin challenges the Asivan Clan to the First Blood Dance.’