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Theresa and Sariah snore softly from their sleeping bags where I helped tuck them in, and for the last half hour, Momma G has kept me company while Marcus, Penelope, and Cat dance with their friends. Thanks to her homemade creation, the jagged bark digging into my ass barely registers, but the niggling reminder that I should be out there with them remains.
Momma G’s cousins play traditionalT’slastamusic with their guitars, maracas, and drums. They sing a sensual song in low, enchanting tones, and as the lyrics swirl around an alluring melody, confidence rolls through the sturdy shoulders of the men who eagerly wait for their turn to dance.
Now I understand why Cat and Penelope were so secretive.
Hallevahisn’t some silly dance party as I had assumed. It’s a sacred coming together of both body and soul.
A shout draws my attention to the fire that cracks and spits flames just as intensely as it had at the beginning of the night. I watch Marcus, relaxed and smiling, as he spins a blindfolded Penelope in a circle, and her gleeful cry pierces the air before he guides her into the arms of the man beside him.
Over the edge of my mug, our stares snag, and an undeniable, spellbinding need smolders through my center.
I quickly finish my sip and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand before turning back to Momma G. “Why do the women wear blindfolds?”
Her gaze fills with ardent, nostalgic emotion. “Many years ago, five different clans separated the borders surrounding Augustine. They would gather here on neutral ground forT’slastato secure bonds and keep the peace, and the sons and daughters of each clan would joinHallevahin hopes of finding their life partner.”
“So, it’s like a mating ritual?”
“Yes and no. In this, the women hold control. The men offer a dance, waiting to be chosen to spend the night with them. If the woman woke in the morning fully satisfied, the chief of each clan would offer the couple their blessing.”
“Damn,” I mutter, taking another swig. “That’s a lot of commitment for a one-night stand.”
Sheclinksher mug to mine with a dash of humor tipping her lips. “That is the beauty of this celebration.” A sky littered with thousands of stars meets the tip of her pointing finger. “Our joys, fears, and hopes attract the magic of the island here. You cannot know what’s to come, but you must trust it.”
I’d claim the woman was batshit crazy if I hadn’t felt exactly what she described when I spoke to Elder Mateo.
A group of women wait their turn for a partner, clapping and giggling as Penelope is twirled into the arms of a heavily muscled man who’s at least an entire foot taller than her. He wastes no time tucking her into his body and nuzzling a naughty smirk against the crook of her neck.
They dance toward the outer edge, and there’s an unmistakable adoration in his gaze when she chooses to remove her blindfold. Her gasp of surprise when he picks her up and throws her over his shoulder tells me all I need to know about the rest of her evening.
I quirk a smile, raising my cup to her. “Hope he’s a good lay, friend.”
Momma G examines me with pursed lips.
“What?”
Nodding toward the circle, she takes another casual sip from her mug. “You should join them.”
Her meddling, paired with an arched brow, makes me laugh. “Oh, no. I don’t belong out there.”
“I think Marcus may disagree…”
We watch him step aside, shoving a couple of his friends into the circle while encouraging them to grab one of the blindfolded females from the other side. His eyes search for mine one last time before Catalonia sidles up beside him.
She holds a clay mug just like mine and Momma G’s, but oddly, Marcus doesn’t. As far as I know, he hasn’t had a single sip tonight, or any other time I’ve been around him, and I find that strange for someone known for having his vices.
I’m distracted from my thoughts by Catalonia elbowing him. She spouts off something that has him grabbing her with an arm around her neck, sloshing liquid from her cup as she hinges forward in his grasp, laughing uncontrollably.
As they wrestle, that same inkling of jealousy from earlier festers. The way he smirks at her once she breaks free of his hold slaps a tiny green monster on my shoulder, who shouts at him,“Look at me, look at me!”
At first, I used putting the girls to sleep as my excuse to be a bystander. I decided our deal was still good, even if I didn’t participate in the dance. But that’s only because Marcus was right. I was afraid—no, I’vebeenafraid—of this pull we have toward each other ever since that first deadly drop of temptation.
“Know what?” I chug a final, chest-hair-producing gulp of Momma G’s elixir before standing. Amusement radiates off her as I thrust the cup into her open palm. “I think I will join them.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say the woman was testing me, but I don’t waste another moment before marching toward the next group of young women hurriedly tying strips of cloth over each other’s eyes.
The song switches the second I reach the wicker chair where a wooden box sits, filled with a jumble of torn white ribbons.
With a shaky hand, I slide the cloth through my fingers, readying to tie it behind my head, but pause as three rapid, monophonic strums from the guitar ascend into a romantic, Spanish-style harmony.
