Page 84 of An Oath at Midnight

Maeve came running out of Payne’s tree house. “Let me see,” she said, tugging on her father’s hand.

He immediately crouched so his daughter could see his new ink. She traced it with her little finger. “Are you winning?”

“It’s not about winning. You know that.” Then he grinned wide, surprising the hell out of me. “But yes, baby, your daddy is winning.”

Rook chuckled low, and I was stunned a second time. I’d never heard anything other than the odd word and the occasional grunt from him.

“Now that you and Bram have stopped pining and started boning, you gonna be a good wifey and follow our traditions?” Talon asked, motioning to the chair Payne had just been sitting in.

Bram growled. “For once, how about you keep your mouth shut.”

He took a step toward his brother, and I planted my hand on his stomach, stopping him. We weren’t “boning” as Talon so charmingly put it, but just because we hadn’t been able to mate in truth yet didn’t mean I didn’t want to do other things a mate would do for her male. “What traditions?”

“Dinner on the table at six on the dot and always ready and willing to submit to your male and fulfill all his needs—”

“What does submit mean?” Maeve asked her father.

Payne’s gaze sliced to Talon, and if looks could kill, he’d be shredded on the floor.

“It means to do as you’re told,” he said to her.

She screwed up her face. “Why would Uncle Bram want that—”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Payne said, and I got the feeling later would never come.

“There’s only one way our females submit,” Rook said, low and gritty. “And it’s not in the fucking kitchen.”

Talon laughed, and Payne’s lips twitched.

My belly did that heat-and-swirl combo again, and I looked up at Bram.

His jaw was tight. “Ignore my fuckwit brothers. Considering Rook and Talon have never had females of their own, I wouldn’t consider them experts on the subject.”

Talon flipped Bram off. “Not sure why you’re acting all coy,” he said to Bram, then looked at me. “Okay, I was messing with you. Our females do what the fuck they like. We only have one tradition. If a warrior has a female, she usually hangs with him when he gets a new marker, you know, to show everyone she’s proud of him, that she’s proud to be his—”

“Talon,” Bram bit out.

“What? It’s one of my top fucking fantasies. Only when I do it, we’ll both be naked,” he said.

“You’re naked, you can ink your fucking self,” Rook muttered.

“What do I do?” I asked, warily.

Talon grinned. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing kinky. All you gotta do is sit on his lap and distract him from the pain.”

Bram cursed under his breath, shoved Talon out of the way, and sat on the chair.

“Is that what usually happens?” I asked Rook, who seemed the least likely to make shit up.

Rook’s cold, black eyes slid to me, like he was surprised I’d asked him, but then he nodded.

Okay, then that’s what I’d do.

“Hair outta the way,” Rook said to Bram.

Bram searched his pockets for a hair tie.

“Let me.” I took the one from my own hair, and Bram faced forward again, sitting back while I threaded my fingers through his hair, gathering it up. His brothers went silent, and I felt their eyes on me while I tied his hair in a knot the way I knew he liked it, getting it out of the way so Rook could do what he needed to.