Page 21 of Chosen

Chapter Fourteen

Sig

I didn’t sleep. I just sat up on the edge of the bed watching the darkness wane until the rooster started spouting off. Its volatile crowing spurred me from the bed. I started to pace. I wanted to go rip her from her covers and drag her to the chapel, but I kept telling myself we needed a better start. I didn’t want a relationship like my parents had. My mother was kept in the dark and often defensive when she didn’t need to be. She was nothing like Uncle Ozias’s wife. His Frankfort queen went to war with him. She was a brilliant shieldmaiden, even if she hadn’t been born one. That was what I wanted.

I groaned and went to the wash basin. I took a rag and dunked it into the tepid water. It felt amazing against my face. A cold, morning shock did the body good sometimes. I slid into some britches and found a nice dark-brown tunic to don. My hair still had braids in it, and I wasn’t about to take the time to unwind and pleat them again.

Alas, I couldn’t take it anymore. The looming wedding and all the expectations got to me. I barged out of my room and made the journey to her bedchamber. I pounded on the door like I was Thor himself. Whispers broke out on the other side and my curiosity got the best of me. Throwing all protocol to the side, I opened the door before her ladies could permit me and let myself inside.

“Oh,” Caralee exclaimed, backing away.

She was a petite thing; I’d probably snap her in half if she ever found herself beneath me. At least she had sense enough to get out of my way.

“Renata,” I loudly greeted.

She winced and rubbed her head.

“Are you ready for the happiest day of your life?” I continued to crow.

She threw one of her many pillows at me and turned to her stomach, burying her face in the rest of them. She had manners. She had instilled grace. And yet, she had the boldness to not only give me her back, but to bring her leg up and poke her bottom out at me as well. My cock twitched and my brows slid together with frustration.

I reached out and slapped her hard on the meatiest part of her ass. She shot off that bed and curses dripped from her lips.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Your mother raised a disrespectful rat, that’s what!” She was so mad she was answering herself.

“Get!” She thrust a finger toward the door and glared at me.

“I will… on one condition,” I agreed.

She stormed toward me and for a moment, I thought she might strike me back, but she stopped with her nose nearly touching mine.

“Get. Out,” she said through gritted teeth.

“You will meet me in the chapel in an hour,” I laid out my terms.

Her hand shot out and before I could react, she’d claimed a pitcher of water and bashed me in the head with it. Pain shot out across my forehead and I gasped as the freshly-drawn, cold water splashed over me.

“Get out! Get out!” she screamed, shoving me in the chest.

I backpedaled, still stunned from the water and when I made it to the door, she slammed it in my face for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. The sound alone made me stand up taller, but when I made sense of what had just occurred, rage flooded me. I kicked the door full force. It splintered, women screamed, and I kicked again. This time, it broke the knob, and the door flew open.

Caralee had copious tears flooding down her cheeks. She was shrieking and hiding in the corner of the room. All the women cowered, except mine. She stood in the center with her chin tilted in a dare.

I marched toward her and snatched her by the hair.

“Let me go!” she demanded while digging her nails into my wrist.

Yeah, it hurt, but no worse than when the village women did it during a raid. I had to force myself not to whip her head back and forth like I usually did them. Instead, I hauled her tall ass down to the chapel and threw the doors open.

Uncle Enzo startled and turned to stare at us from up near the altar.

“Sig, is everything quite alright?” he politely asked.

“Everything is wonderful,” I scoffed, while fighting Truth up the aisle. She was flipping and hissing like a damn cat over water.

“Renata, stop it,” I calmly insisted.

She planted her hand on my rib and shoved, but it only jarred us both, because I sure didn’t let go of her hair.

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