Okay, I seriously needed to find out what that meant.
I looked over at him to see him tip his head at the first warrior in the arc. More drums started sounding, not the booming sound, these were smaller, made less noise but it wasn’t music. It was just a beat and the wedding rite, I guessed, started.
Each warrior rode his horse right before us to the foot of the steps to the dais, stopped, dismounted, pulled down his bride and walked her up the steps to us. This happened one after another. All of the
men jerked their chin up to the Dax then their eyes came to me and they bowed their head slightly. Some of the women bowed to the king and to me.
After the jerking chin, bowing thing, one of the warriors pulled his bride in front of him, wrapped his arms around her, one at her chest so he could lift his hand to cup her jaw and he grinned at his king.
Clearly, he was pretty pleased with his bride and, in spite of myself, I had to admit, it was kind of cute. And I allowed myself to admit this mainly because the girl looked a little tentative but also a little pleased too.
I looked at the Dax who had no visible response. He might have thought it was cute or he might have been fighting a roll of his eyes.
But his face gave away nothing.
Still smiling, that warrior walked away with his arm around his naked bride’s shoulders.
A few couples later, Narinda came up with her warrior. She had blood on her too. Clearly, he’d fought for her because he had a minor wound at his shoulder. The chin jerks and bows went on then I leaned forward and caught her eyes.
“I’m all right,” she mouthed before she hesitantly tipped her head back to her (handsome, I was pleased to see, very handsome but also hopefully soft under all that muscle) warrior.
Then I was equally pleased to see him slide his arm along her waist in a way that looked kind of tender before he guided her down the steps.
Okay. Shoo. Maybe Narinda was going to be okay.
More warriors, more brides, more drums, more chin jerks and bowing and then, almost to the end, I was shocked to see the cruel warrior who got his chain on me before the Dax had severed it was striding up the steps dragging an extremely beautiful, native girl behind him.
He, too, was wounded, one eye swelling, a cheekbone too and he was bleeding profusely from his nose and shallow but nasty gashes on his chest.
But it wasn’t his wounds that freaked me out. It was his eyes.
His eyes were burning and this burn came from his soul, that soul was filled with hate and his eyes were locked on his king.
Oh man, that did not bode well.
His bride stumbled on the steps but he didn’t even slow; he dragged her on her knees to the top of them. This caused me to take in a sharp breath and then I felt it.
Something coming from the Dax. Something not good.
I tore my eyes away from the bleeding, vile warrior whose new wife was at her knees by his side, his blood and probably others, considering her beauty, all over her naked body, to look at the Dax.
He gave nothing away. His expression had not changed and his body was held loose and relaxed. And somehow I knew his not giving this man anything was taking away what that man most wanted. He wanted the Dax to look angry or alert to the obvious threat he posed.
But the Dax wasn’t giving him even that.
Still, my new husband did not like this guy. I could sense it.
My eyes snapped back to the warrior when I heard his bride cry out in pain. Then I froze in horror when I saw he was pulling her up by her hair.
Unless I missed it, he didn’t give the Dax a chin jerk or me a bow.
Instead, he positioned his new bride in front of his body, kicked her legs apart with his foot, then his arm circled her as his other hand stayed clenched in her hair, clearly in a painful way for both her hands had wrapped around his wrist and her stunning face was twisted in distress. Then his torso bent low, his hand moving from her waist, to her belly, down, over her sex, curling in…
My eyes shot to the Dax as I heard her whimper.
He did not look at me. His face was set to blank and his eyes were glued to the warrior. They were up, not down, not watching what he was doing but locked on the warrior’s face.
Then I watched his lip curl.
But I didn’t feel the warrior move away though I heard his woman keep whimpering.
He was still hurting her.
I couldn’t allow it. After what had happened to me that night, to Narinda, to all those frightened girls out there who had been claimed on rough rocks by savage warriors, I couldn’t allow it. Not this.
What we’d endured was humiliating, this was beyond that.
I had to do something.
“Stop him,” I whispered to the Dax but he didn’t tear his eyes away from the warrior. “Stop him,” I repeated but he ignored me.
Hesitantly, not wanting to do it, never wanting to touch him but spurred on by the girl’s whimpers and fresh memories of my own nightmare, I reached out a hand and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. “Stop him,” I implored.
At my touch, the Dax’s head turned, his dark eyes dropped to my hand then they lifted to my face. I saw them move over my features but he gave me nothing. I didn’t know what he was thinking. I had no clue.
When the whimpers continued, I moved my hand to his, curled my fingers around, shook it, leaned in and begged, “Please, please, stop him.”
The Dax stared at me.
