Chapter Seven: Claim
He still sleeps long after I have already risen for the day. I lean over him slightly, watching him as he sleeps soundly; the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his soft and labored breathing.
Suddenly, his hand flies up from beneath the covers and grabs me by the neck. I choke, my eyes widening. He doesn't fully see my face, since it's still dark in the early morning. His eyes blaze in the darkness, but as soon as I reach my hand out and touch his hot cheek, his realizes whom he's choking.
Jacob drops his hands, a look of sheer disgust on his face when he sees what he's done. I collapse to the bed and cough, grabbing at my neck. "Fuck," he curses. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
I look up at him through the curtain of hair hiding my face, my brows crunched together. When I see the worried look on his face, I soften. "No, it was my fault. I startled you when you were sleeping."
He sits up and reaches for me. I unconsciously flinch when he touches me, pouring salt onto his wounds even further. He pulls away, his black hair framing his face. "It's a bad habit. One can never to be too cautious."
I nod my head, trying to get oxygen down my dented air canal. "I understand."
He frowns, rubbing his forehead with his sweaty palm. I have already dressed in emerald green silks today. These silks bare my back and drape loosely over my chest and legs. It's beautiful. I'm adorned with an emerald necklace as well.
Jacob takes one look at me and scratches the back of his head. "I haven't seen that one in years," he murmurs. I'm puzzled, and he can see it on my face. "That was Snow Lion's favorite one to wear."
I gasp and clutch at the silks. "Oh, I had no idea! I'll take it off straightaway—"
He holds up his hand. "Leave it on," he tells me. Then he smiles slowly. "I like it better on you, anyway."
0o0o0o0o
I step into the dining hall. I shoot Jacob a sideways glance and he nods at me in an assuring way. He wears a brown breechcloth woven with green lines. He strides into the hall and the whole table rises, cheering for their king. He grins widely, lifting his hands and allowing the praise to be heard.
He gestures for me to follow him. I slowly creep behind him, keeping my head down and my shoulders slouched. Jacob shoots me a look and I instantly straighten up. He does not like it when I slouch like a scared little girl.
I square my shoulders and tip my chin upwards. The men cast their glances at me before dropping their eyes back down to their plates as they sit. I really don't feel like sitting on Iron Coyote's lap again, so I stick as close to Jacob's side as possible.
He nods towards a chair right next to him. He gives the man occupying the seat a nasty look. "Move." The man picks up his plate and dashes out of the seat like he'd just seen a ghost.
I take the seat as he passes a plate of onion fried potatoes, eggs, and grizzly looking fried sausage links to me, then a full glass of goat's milk. "That was cruel," I tell him.
Jacob gives me a look, chewing on the end of a sausage link. "You want a seat or not?" he says somewhat rudely. I close my mouth and look at the plate. The food is steaming, and I'm very hungry.
"Where are the forks?" I question him. He gestures to the plate, picking up a potato piece with his fingers and popping it into his mouth. I frown and touch the food. It's too hot and I burn the tip of my finger. I yelp and yank my finger away quickly. I find myself grumbling to nobody but myself only a moment later. "Out of all the stealing you do, you couldn't steal a single fork?"
He hears me and laughs loudly. The whole table falls silent and stares as their king continues to express his amusement. His lips quirk up at the edges and he shakes his head slowly. "All fire," he murmurs. "Tsarki wuta." Then he leans over to Drinks of Waterfall, who is sitting right next to him. "Shin ba ta wani abu abu?" (Pure fire. Isn't she something else?)
Drinks of Waterfall chuckles deeply and nods his head. "Ta na kamar wuta daga farko. Angelina bã kõme ba ne irin ta. Ita shiru da kuma jin kunya, amma tana da fasaha a dakin kwana." (She was fire from the start. Angelina is nothing like her. She's quiet and shy, but she has skill in the bedroom.)
He nods his head. "Haka ne, dole ne ka son mace wanda ya san yadda za su gama da ku." (Yes, you must like a woman who knows how to finish you.)
Drinks of Waterfall gives a wide grin. "Ta na da hanyoyin da karuwa, amma ba zan iya ganin ta ba a matsayin karami kasancewarsa ya fi I." He picks up an egg with his fingers and swallows it whole. "Babu karuwa da mine ya taka bi da ni da yadda mutum ke girmamawa a matsayin ta ba ni. Ina sha'awan cewa ... don haka sai na bi ta da kyau a samu." (She has method and skill of a whore, but I cannot see her as a lesser being than I. No slut of mine has ever treated me with as much respect as she gives me. I admire that…so I treat her well in return.)
Jacob nods his head slowly. "Tiger kambori ne wuta, amma ta amuses da ni kwarai." He looks at me and chuckles. "Ta na da ta'aziyya zuwa da kewaye." (Tiger Claw is fire, but she amuses me greatly. She's a comfort to be around.)
I have no idea what they're saying, but I know that Drinks of Waterfall is talking about Angelina. Jacob turns back to me and looks at my full plate. I stare at him. "Eat," he tells me sternly. I look back down to my plate and pick at a potato.
A second later, I find myself choking on bits of potato as his fingertips skirt across my thigh. He gives me a certain look that tells me to be quiet and not make a sound. I'm afraid that if I don't obey he'll be pissed. But I don't want to make a scene either.
I shakily pick up my drink as Jacob moves his chair closer to mine. His hands are hot on my thighs; they feel like they've been roasting over a hotplate for hours. I choke on my goat's milk when his warm hands begin to pry my legs apart. I try to fight him but he's too strong for me. A warm hand cups me in my most intimate place. I make a little noise, slightly slamming my glass down on the table and clenching my thighs tightly together.
It's a reaction of mine that comes with being touched. But clenching my thighs together traps his hand there, right at my heat. His eyes widen slightly at first, but then they become heavy-lidded with lust and a slow smile spreads over his face. Drinks of Waterfall looks at him funny, then glances over towards me.
I do my best to keep a straight face. But as his finger slides into me, I lose my cool. My face turns bright red and my head slumps down a little as I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. Jacob's completely calm and collective at the head of the table. No one even suspects anything's going on.
He's touching me with one hand under the table, and eating with the other. He chats in Quileute to the other barbarians, laughing and shooting me seductive little side glances. I clench my thighs again when he crooks his finger inside of me, sending a rush of pleasure through my body. He notices my reaction and repeats the action, but this time harder.
I loudly cry out in pleasure and stand up abruptly. I've frightened myself, and now the whole table is looking at me. "I spilled a bit of milk on my lap," I say, flustered. Jacob's face is red—he's laughing—and he brings the offending finger to his lips before sucking on it delicately.
I gasp and flee the dining hall.
Jacob sits up in his seat a little, grabbing a piece of meat off of his plate and popping it in his mouth. "Ta ya zubar da madara," he translates for me. They all nod and resume eating. I'm horrified with myself, and my reaction to his evil doings.
I'm halfway into the west wing corridor when a heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
"I thought I said to wait," he grumbles. "I don't want you traveling alone anymore."
I shrug his hand off of me. "You made a fool of me in there."
"No," he corrects me. "You made a fool of yourself. And now everyone knows you are budurwa."
"Good, let them know of your failures." I yell. His nonchalance angers me greatly.
Jacob's amusement fades immediately. "Tiger Claw," he warns me.
"My name is Isabella," I tell him sternly.
He ignores me. "I need my hair braided. Let us go." He takes my hand and starts to walk me down the hallway.
"Why don't you go ask Athenodora?" I hiss, pulling away from him. It was a stab at him for last night. "I'm sure she'd love to do another favor for you."
He laughs humorlessly and tugs me by the arm down the hall. "Let us go," he says with more force. "I am not playing anymore."
0o0o0o0o
I'm sitting in the corner of the harem, my face reddening with anger. Jacob escorted me to the harem only to have me sit and watch as he personally asked Athenodora to braid his hair. I wanted to punch him.
After all of the progress we'd made last night, to this? Needless to say I was upset.
Angelina lay on her old cot near the back of the room, absently braiding her own hair while looking at a drawing of a barbarian man. To get my mind off of Jacob having fun torturing me with Athenodora, I get up and make my way over to her.
She looks up as I sit down, smiling brightly. "Isabella," she greets. "I feel like I've not spoken with you in millennia. How have you been managing?"
I cast a glance back at Jacob. Athenodora offers him a green grape and he accepts. He takes it between his teeth and seductively rolls it into his mouth. She blinks, flustered and smiles back at him.
I huff a heated, "Fine" back at her. She weakly smiles and nods, letting the braid she'd been weaving fall out of her hair. "How are things with Drinks of Waterfall?"
"Who?"
I give her a look. "Your master," I say.
"Oh!" she exclaims. "I almost didn't recognize the name. I don't call him Drinks of Waterfall. He's given me the privilege of calling him by his commoner's name, Embry. It's easier for me to say. Especially in our love-making sessions." Angelina giggles at the last line. I want to roll my eyes, but I refrain.
I can't help but look back at Jacob. I notice that he has not smiled once while with her. She was giggling and playing with him, but he was stoic, like a statue.
I turn back to Angelina. I pick up the sheet of papyrus lying on her bed and examine the charcoal strokes on it. It was a perfect picture of Drinks of Waterfall. I look up at her. The girl's got her lip pinned between her teeth as she looks up at me. "Did you draw this?" I question.
She nods her head quickly. "Do you like it? I drew the picture while I was in his room. He was drinking his wine in silence, so I took advantage of the time. He's just so beautiful, Isabella. I couldn't resist."
The charcoal strokes show the definition of his high cheekbones and the gentleness in his almond-shaped chocolate eyes. How his hair hangs into his eyes and falls out of his braid, how his full russet lips look when he smiles, and how he has a slight dimple in his chin.
She shifts in her seat. "I'm debating on whether or not I should show it to him. I'm afraid he won't like it…afraid he'll think me odd for drawing it. I do not know the customs here."
I set the drawing back down on her cot and nod my head. "Well, he ought to be called a fool if he doesn't like it." I smile at her and she smiles brightly back at me.
"Thank you," she whispers. "You've really put my mind at ease." Angelina picks up her drawing and folds it in half. When I look back at him, I find him staring right back at him.
He nods at me and beckons me to come over. I slide off of the cot and walk slowly over to him, my green silks kissing my thighs. "Get me some wine," he tells me. I frown. I had stupidly thought that he summoned me over to have me tend to him.
I huff a laugh without humor. "As you wish," I bite out. I turn on my heel and waltz into the kitchens, even angrier than I was before.
In the kitchen, I see a familiar face. It is Black Bear, the young man that had defeated Gray Hawk at the shagali. He is alone, sipping from a glass of red wine at the counter. I stare at him for a moment, frozen in my place. Either he does not notice my presence or he just does not wish to acknowledge it.
I walk to the cupboards and fetch a cup from the shelf. When I look back at him, I find him to be staring straight at me. I jump and gasp, my hand flying to my fluttering heart.
Black Bear does not laugh like Jacob would have. Instead he reels back, mirroring the shock. He squints his eyes at me. He opens his mouth to speak, but he closes it right back up a moment later. Black Bear reminds me of a younger version of Jacob. He has a youthful face, but is nearly 8 inches taller than me and built with taut muscle.
I point to the glass of wine in his hand, and then to my cup. I almost do not notice how much my hand shakes.
"Giya?" he asks me. I think giya is the word they use for wine. I nod my head. He goes to the door next to the crates of potatoes, carrots and green beans. It is the door to the ice-room, where the cold wine is stored along with other foods and drink.
He walks into the room, looking for the glass container of wine. He holds it up when he spots it. "Na same shi," he announces. "Da giya."
I set Jacob's goblet down on the countertop as Black Bear places the large class container of wine into my hands. The wine is cold, and it momentarily numbs my fingers. I set it on the counter next to Jacob's goblet and tug out the cork in the top. He is still standing there, watching me with his tender black eyes while he sips his own wine.
I tip the glass over and the red liquid pours into the cup until it is full. I sigh as I push the cork back into the top of the glass container. I meekly look at him and smile shyly. "Na gode," I whisper.
His eyes widen. He stands up straight after having been leaning against a crate of carrots and nods his head. "Na'am." He swallows a large lump in his throat. "Ana jin harshena?"
I have no idea what he's just said. And apparently he knows that, since the completely perturbed look on my face gives me away completely. I struggle to get my words out. "I…I do not…" I make frustrated gestures with my hands. "No speak. Ba tare da."
This time he chuckles, but only a little. "Ah. You only know the basic words, is that right?"
My mouth drops and I swear that my surprise and fluster can't get any worse than it already has. "You speak the Common Tongue as well?" I question.
He nods his head, his short braid sliding over his bared shoulders. He is well-defined, but lacks muscle mass, unlike Jacob. "I s'pose all of us are taught the common tongue from a young age. We need to know the words of the people that we invade."
I shake my head. "Language. Not words."
He nods his head. "As you can see, I am still learning your…your…langawidge. That how you say it?"
I laugh. "Yes. It is close enough."
Black Bear smiles. His smile is kind, and even handsome. He reaches out a hand to greet me. "Well…it is nice to meet you—"
"Me haka ke faruwa?" (What the fuck is going on?)
The loud booming voice is enough to prick up hairs on the back of my neck. I instantly whirl around. Jacob's standing in the doorway, fuming mad and glaring daggers at innocent young Black Bear.
The younger boy cowers slightly and backs slowly away from me. Then Jacob turns his terrifyingly powerful gaze onto me. "I thought I told you to get me the wine!" he booms. His hair is braided and it spills over his waist.
I hold up the wine. My grip is so shaky that the red liquid inside of the glass graciously licks the sides of the goblet. "I did."
"Took you goddamn forever," he spits at me. I flinch back at the force of his words.
I go from being scared to being annoyed. "I was only gone for a minute. Besides, you were preoccupied."
"Babu," he hisses. "Longer than minute." Then he turns to Black Bear, cursing at him and puffing up his chest and making crude gestures with his hands. It looks to me like a territorial statement.
Black Bear fires back with what I assume is his defense.
And then the next thing I know, I hear a sickening crack and I see Black Bear writhing on the ground with his hands cupped over his nose. Blood drips through his fingers and he squirms to try to get away from Jacob.
Jacob grabs Black Bear by the neck and prepares to deliver another blow, but I cry out, stopping him right in his tracks. "Stop! Stop hurting him. He did not touch me!"
He doesn't even spare a glance towards me when I say it. He only stalls his fist, holding it mere inches from Black Bear's face. The younger boy frantically looks at me, and then looks back to Jacob in fear.
I go to Jacob and lay a comforting hand on his heated shoulder. He looks back at me, his eyes animalistic and primal. "Please don't hit him," I whisper. "I promise, I absolutely promise you, that nothing happened. He only showed me where the wine was so I could pour some for you."
He releases his hold on Black Bear and lets the boy drop to the ground in fear. "He was too friendly," he growls at me. "You are mine."
"I know," I pant. "He knows too."
"No," Jacob snarls. "He didn't." Black Bear races out of the room immediately, knocking over the wine glass and spilling it all over the floor. "It is time."
My face contorts in confusion. "Time for what?"
"The claim speech."
0o0o0o0o
He throws the bloody muscular organ down onto the floor. It lands in a 'squish' sort of sound, blood splattering everywhere. The crowd of nearly 200 men being to chatter in disgust, wondering whose heart lay on the floor there.
I sit on the pillow and try not to retch from the sight of the heart of a deceased man lying limply on the stone floors. It was a much prettier sight wrapped in the cloth. When Jacob begins to speak, I do not understand what he says. But my clever mind can infer.
"Wannan shi ne zuciyar mutum," he says, pointing at the red organ on the stone floor, leaking blood onto the floor. "An tsage daga kirji da mutum ya yi kokari ya sa hannunsa a kan wata mace. Kuma wãne ne mace? Ita Tiger kambori, na mace daga karfe mulkokin Forks." (This is the heart of a man. It was torn from the chest of a man that tried to lay his hands on a woman. And who is the woman? She is Tiger Claw, my woman from the iron kingdom of Forks.)
The men in the room are silent, eyes widened, mouths shut, ears listening. Jacob continues with wrath in his eyes. "Ban yi imani da cewa na yi ya bayyana a fili cewa Tiger kambori ne mine. Na da'awar da su kamar yadda kaina, kuma wannan shi zai sa ta gaba daya kashe iyaka zuwa gare ku, al'aurar mata-ji yunwa bastards." (I do not believe that I have made it clear that Tiger Claw is mine. I have claimed her as my own, and that makes her completely off limits to you cunt-hungry bastards.)
I watch him as he steps down from his place at his throne and kicks the heart on the floor a few feet. He laughs menacingly. "Za ka iya ba shãfe ta ba tare da izinin ta, za ka iya magana ba mata, na iya ko kalle ta ba tare da izini na! Na yi tofi a kan maza da cewa suna da hadama kamar yadda ya dauki wani mutum mace a matsayin nasa. Idan ba ka so ka kawo karshen sama da ciwon zuciyar ka a kasa a can, sai na shawara ka zauna bãya. Na stomp a kan zukãtan mutanen da suka sa hannu a kan mace! (You may not touch her without my permission, you may not speak to her, and you may not even look at her without my permission! I spit on the men that are so greedy as to take another man's woman as his own. Unless you want to end up having your heart on the floor there, I advise you to stay away. I stomp on the hearts of men who lay a hand on my woman!)
His boot comes down heart on the floor. I look away as spurts of blood rocket out of the veins and openings in the muscular organ. "Idan ka sosai kamar yadda ya zo kusa da ita, zan sa sharar gida a gare ka! Zan kone ka innards kuma ka ciyar da dabbobin ka, mount kanka a kan wani gidan kamar boar ta, da kuma jefa ka fita zuwa cikin laka ga acid da ruwa a wanke kan ka Rotting jiki." (If you so much as come near her, I will lay waste to you! I will burn your innards and feed them to your animals, mount your head on a post like a boar's, and throw you out into the mud for the acid rain to wash over your rotting flesh.)
He picks up the crushed heart and throws it into the crowd. The men shuffle to get out of the way. "Kada a goge maganata kashe sauki. Duk da yake ina gane cewa wannan gargadi, dole ne ka gane cewa wannan ma barazana. Kada ka yi kuskure a gare ni, da na maza," he rants. "Na yi alkawari wadannan sakamakon a kanku!" (Do not wipe my words off easily. While I realize that this is a warning, you must realize that this is also threat. Do not mistake me, my men. I promise these results upon you!)
My heart is pounding and I find myself feeling ill and sweaty. He is done with his rant now. He summons one of his servants over to throw away the body part and clean up the floor. He walks back over to me and shows me the quick flick of his wrist. "Up," he says.
I stand and follow him out the door. As I leave, the men shuffle out of the way so quickly, acting like I've an extremely contagious disease that could kill them instantly. I don't know what Jacob's said to them, but his 'claim' speech was quite a passionate and angry one.
I race to his side. None of the men will look at me. I tap his arm. "Jacob." He does not answer. His face is red and he looks quite flustered and upset. "Jacob!"
He raises his hand as if he wants to slap me, but he stalls. "Do not call me that in public."
My eyes are as wide as saucers and my lip is quivering. "I…I'm sorry."
His shoulders slump and his head ducks down into his hands. His thumbs rub his temples in circular motions. "No…no, it's alright. Just remember next time, yes?"
I nod my head. He curls a huge, bulky arm around my waist and pulls me along down the hallway. I lean into his embrace comfortably. "What did you tell them? I couldn't follow along."
He stares ahead, the corners of his lips fighting the urge to quirk up into a smile. "Just something that needed to be said. That's all."
I frown, looking up at him. "Tell me."
"No."
"I demand you to tell me—"
"You do not demand," he snaps. "I demand. And I demand that you ask no more questions."
Now he's only made me even more curious as to what he's been talking about. As soon as we're in his private chambers, I feel slightly more comfortable about being with him. I sit on his bed while he sits in his favorite chair, smoking a pipe. "I want you to teach me more," I say. "Please."
Jacob glances at me out of his peripheral vision. "Woman. Mace."
I nod my head. "Mace. How do you say, 'I am a woman' in your language?"
"Ni mace."
I stand from my seat and point to myself. "Ni…mace."
He nods his head. "Heart. Zu—"
"Zuciya," I blurt.
He looks at me in minor shock and smiles softly. "You learn quick."
I shrug my shoulders. "A zuciya ga zuciya."
He silences at my line. He knows what it means. "Thief," he continues. "Is barawo."
"And how do you say 'you are'?"
"Kai ne."
"Kai ne barawo," I tell him. "Ni mace. Ni…Tiger Kambori."
He smiles widely this time. "You shall be speaking fluently in no time. Most people say that Quileute is a difficult language for correct pronunciation, but you seem like a natural."
I shrug my shoulders. "Because I've you to help me with it. What better teacher is there than the king of the barbarians?"
He leans his chin into the palm of his hand, letting the pipe in his other hand die down a little. "Na'am."
"And that means yes." I tell him matter-of-factly, like he doesn't already know that.
"How about I quiz you?" he questions. I nod my head quickly in agreement. I'd love to test my knowledge. "Mace."
"Mace. Woman," I reply.
"Barawo."
"Barawo. Theif."
"Hannayen."
"Oh!" I exclaim. "This one is hands. I remember from before."
He nods his head. "Good. And zuciya?"
This word is my absolute favorite word of all. "Zuciya," I reply. "Is heart."
"Giya."
"Wine."
"Alright," he says, sitting up in his chair. "I've got another one. I want you to guess it."
I nod my head. "Very well. Tell me."
"Tawa."
I bite my lip in confusion. "Oh, but this could be any word in the world," I complain weakly. "Give me a hint at least."
He nods his head. "It rhymes with the word for giya."
Giya means wine. He wants me to find a word that rhymes with wine. Vine, swine, fine, line, whine, pine, dine, shine, shrine, sign, twine. And then a word pops into my mind quickly. I look up at him. A storm is brewing in the shadowy depths of Jacob's eyes. "Is the word mine?"
"Na'am."
I fold my legs over one another. "And how do you say, yours?"
"Naku."
I tuck a tendril of hair behind my ear. "I see," I whisper. "Naku da tawa?"
He lifts the pipe slowly back up to his lips, taking a long drawl of the smoke. He keeps his eyes on mine the whole time. He yanks the pipe away from his mouth as a dragon of smoke comes curling out from his lips. His eyelids flutter shut. "Na'am."
0o0o0o0o0
Hausa Dictionary
Ta ya zubar da madara: She spilled milk
Na gode: Thank you
Ana jin hareshena?: Do you speak the language?
Naku: Yours
Naku da tawa: Yours and mine
