Page 81 of Iron Cross

“Will you?” He shut his eyes, bringing his forehead to mine. His warm skin was heating the air between us. And I was so conscious of his cock that was still buried in my warmth, I could feel his pulse speeding up, causing him to harden again.

My head was swimming with the possibility of another round. Still, my heart and soul longed for that friction. I wanted more of him. I wanted to make up for the last two years. For every evening I spent alone, with no one to keep me warm. For every night that I had missed him.

“Will I do what?” I finally asked, when I remembered that he had asked a question.

“Handfast,” he said, his eyes still weren’t on my face. “Will you take the blood oath in front of everyone, and…” He swallowed. He blinked, slowly. Then raised his eyes to look at me. “Pledge to be mine forever.”

Another tear. This was so fucking insane. Cutting yourself to take a blood oath? Not only was it insane, but it was unsanitary and ridiculous. Medieval! And if I searched hard enough, I bet it was also patriarchal and sexist.

“Don’t handfastings happen at a wedding?” I asked, wondering if it was all too late.

“Aye.”

“We’re already married.”

“Aye, but this is different.”

“How?” I looked up at him, my hands palm up in his, as we both looked at where we were joined.

“Handfasting started when there was no priest to let people marry,” he said, taking one hand up to his mouth, kissing the heel of my palm. “It was like a blood oath. It fell out of favor, and was seen as pagan, but somehow we managed to keep it alive. Here, and some of the folks in Boston.”

He took my other hand and kissed the inside of my wrist, letting his lips linger there.

“It changed over time, and for the likes of someone like me, being handfasted to a woman means more than clan, more than family.” He came to his knees in front of me, placing his forehead on my lap. “An arranged marriage wouldn’t do this. Many people don’t feel the need to draw blood on their oath.”

“But you do?” I asked with a chuckle. “Because you’re melodramatic.”

He laughed a little. “Aye, lass. It comes with the art.”

He looked up at me, his hands adjusting so that his thumbs were at my pulse point, his fingers around my wrist.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. But it would be an honor to me if you would think about it.” He kissed my knuckles. “There is no higher vow. My father made the oath to his wife, my mother. He didn’t for Aoibheann. Even if he had loved her, which he didn’t, he couldn’t. Because you can only take this vow once.” He let out a breath. “Aoibheann handfasted with JerichoVasiliev of the Bratva, because theyarein love. My cousin, Dairo, handfasted with Rose as well.”

He kissed up my forearm, my skin tingled where his lips touched.

“A ring can be taken off. But the scar that’s left with a handfast can be shown at any time, anywhere, forever. It will be honored by the men of my clan, and of the Murphys in Boston, the O’Bradys in Chicago and, now, the New York Bratva.” He tilted his head down like a supplicant. “I would be honored if you would let our vow be on your skin.”

What woman could possibly resist something like that? This was insanely hot, and incredibly romantic, even if the idea of a blood oath was borderline psychotic. But that was Eoghan. Sweet, darkly passionate, and insane.

“Okay,” I croaked. “I’ll do it.”

His black eyes popped up, a small smile on his face. That was the look of hope. A disbelieving hope like a homeless kid being offered a chance at a family.

“Do we need a priest?”

“No.” His eyes were searching my face, likely trying to find any hint of hesitation or reluctance. “No, it can be between us. Just us two.”

I nodded, slowly. But I remembered Malinda, and her awful words. Eoghan’s father had done it in front of everyone. He had declared it loudly. So was I only good for this in secret? “You don’t want witnesses?”

“A knife and just a cloth…” He was slowing down. Was he regretting his request now that I had said yes? Was he nervous? I couldn’t tell. “If that’s what you’re willing to do, but…”

His voice trailed off, and again my heart sank. Why am I so attached to this stupid idea?

“Are you changing your mind?” I asked, quietly. “Do you not want to do it anymore?”

“Aye, I do, I just want to know that you’re sure.” He leaned back, sitting on his heels. “You understand the significance? It means that if another man were to touch you, one of ours could slit his throat for me, and I’d have to reward him. This vow means that everyone will also be supporting our fidelity above all things.”

“So?” I said with a laugh. “I couldn’t even kiss you when you were in disguise. I couldn’t move on even when I wanted to.” My eyes fluttered shut. “I take it the restrictions only apply to me, though.”

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