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I nod and we walk into the other room where I pull on clothes, jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt today. It’s a warm day. We then head to her bedroom where I choose a dress for her, but she ignores me, grabs her jeans.
“They need to be washed. Pick something else.” I take the jeans away and, although reluctant, Blue puts on a simple pale blue A-line dress.
I make a mental note to arrange for more clothes, jeans, and things she’s more used to wearing than Isabelle’s dresses. I follow her into the bathroom where I stand at the door and watch her put on her makeup. It’s weirdly intimate and I like it. She mostly uses coverup around the scar and now the bruises, along with a little mascara. Her makeup was heavier when she worked at The Cat House. Part of the uniform. She doesn’t need it, though. She’s beautiful.
“It’s a Society custom. Wives are marked by their husbands on their wedding day,” I say, answering her earlier question.
One of her eyebrows arches as we make our way downstairs to breakfast. The kitchen is quiet, Cynthia didn’t come today. I’m surprised when Blue opens the refrigerator, studies the contents. She takes out bacon, eggs, bread and milk, then begins to rummage through the cabinets until she finds cinnamon.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Making breakfast. French toast, bacon and eggs.”
“You can cook?”
She is crouched at a lower cabinet and looks up at me like I’m from another planet before straightening and setting two bowls on the counter.
“Don’t get too excited. It’s breakfast. Also, we didn’t all grow up with servants at our beck and call.”
I smile. “I’ll make coffee.” She begins to work on breakfast, cracking eggs and mixing cinnamon and milk in one bowl while setting the bacon to sizzle in a pan. A few minutes later, the kitchen smells make my stomach growl. Once the coffee is ready, I pour her a mug and stand back to watch.
“Continue with your story. I’m riveted by this insanity,” she says.
“After the wedding ceremony, it is customary for the new bride to kneel at her husband’s feet and present her back and neck to him to place his mark.”
She gives me side eye. “That’s very modern of you.” She turns her attention back to cooking. “I would never do that. Ever. If any man ever expected me to, well, he’d be in for a shock.”
“Would he?” I ask, a realization dawning on me as I watch her, listen to her.
“You bet.”
Does she realize no one outside of The Society knows this about us? Do I realize what I’m doing in telling her? What it means? In a way, I do. Telling her what I did about Zoë, well, that set the stage. And whether or not I like it, things have changed between us, and I can’t ignore what happens in my gut at the thought of Blue kneeling at my feet and offering herself to me to be marked.
“Go on,” she prods when I’m silent too long. “I weirdly want to hear. Like a car crash you can’t look away from.”
“It’s a ceremony and a rite in and of itself. The other Sovereign Sons witness the marking of the new bride.”
“Sovereign Sons?”
“There are tiers, I suppose you could say. Founding family members and their descendants.”
“So, like a caste system.”
I sip from my mug. She’s not wrong. But she’s not quite right either. “There are different kinds of people, Blue. And believe it or not, most marriages within The Society are just like any in the outside world. Women choose this.”
“Not in Isabelle’s case.”
“Correct. But that’s another story and one for her to tell. Suffice it to say the Bishop and St. James families have centuries of history between them dating back to Draca. Isabelle and Jericho have healed the past. Together, they will create a new future for both families.”
“That’s actually kind of nice.” She plates bacon, eggs and French toast on two dishes, and we move to the counter to eat. “So, these men watch the bride kneel and get marked.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Sounds porny. Go on.”
I chuckle, enjoying watching her eat. She seems always ravenous. “I suppose it kind of does although I’m sure no one within IVI would put it that way.”
“I suppose it’s good for Cat House business.”
“Or good for the men to go back home and fuck their wives. Here.” I put my bacon on her plate because she’s gone through hers.
“Don’t you want it?”
