Page 100 of Beautifully Wounded

“What was the warning?” I ask, gripping her fingers when she goes to pull them away from my palm.

“Thateach time I dishonour Daniel or my family, my penance will get worse.”

A slow, simmering rage bubbles deep in my gut, ready to unfurl and seek vengeance. She hasn’t even told me what the penance was yet, and I know without a doubt, I’ll crave her parents’ deaths a thousand fucking times over.

“What was the penance?” I ask reluctantly, not wanting to hear another word spoken on how such cruelty was dished out to this sweet soul.

“Lashings,” she whispers, her whole body beginning to tremble. “Don’t make me describe that.”

Fuck.

FUCK!

“I’ll never make you tell me anything you’re not comfortable revealing.” I assure her, yet when her eyes find mine, I can see the doubt in them.

“You won’t demand me?”

Shifting her to face me better, I cup her cheeks. “I may demand things, but you have the power to deny me. You control what you give to others, not the other way around.”

She stares at me for a long moment before giving me a slight nod, and once again my fucking eyes track to her plump lips.

Don’t fucking do it.

Control your-fucking-self.

Gently, I force my hands from her face, releasing her and willing my fucking paws to stay the fuck off her.

“Tell me about the Scriptures. Are they the same as Christianity?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “There’s a lot about worshipping God’s vessel, Symme. Followed by guardians that nurture and provide for us.”

“Guardians? Like your parents?”

She nods. “That and husbands. Husbands come before parents.”

“The Scripture says you have to worship your husband?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Through wifely duties,” she whispers, and I frown.

“What? Like cooking and cleaning?”

“Amongst other things.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but fuck that. I know it’s a big deal.

“What other things?”

Again, she shrugs, biting her lower lip as she thinks, probably trying to find a way to sugarcoat it.

Fuck that.

“Angel, be honest. Tell me exactly what other things fall under wifely duties.”

Sighing, her caramel gaze drops to her lap where her knees are curled up, and she starts picking at the loose cotton hanging from the bottom of my hoodie she’s wearing.

“The duty of the wife is to be at her husband’s beck and call. Should he want intercourse,” her eyes dart up to mine briefly before looking back down, “a wife should never refuse him, and if she does, as the husband, he has the right to indulge in his wife’s body as he sees fit. A husband has the right to choose the penance for his wife if she disobeys him, with the only allowance being that penance must not be something that will affect thewife physically if she is with child and for the first six months of the child’s life.”

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