When their gazes locked, she could've sworn her heart stopped for a moment before it sped up and hammered up inside of her chest, working its way up to the base of her throat. She felt like it was almost hard to breathe, the jolts of his eyes on her sending shivers down her spine.
She caught the smirk, the look he gave her, and a part of her couldn't help but smirk back and roll her eyes in return, before her eyes were locked back on his after but a single moment.
Desperately, her heart waged war with her mind, trying to convince her to just do it--pick him. It would be so easy, so painless, even if for just this one night, even if he didn't like her too. Even if he only saw her as a piece of meat, there was a small part of her that would be okay with that, if it meant he looked at her. Thought of her that way, even for a second.
She fucking hated it, hated how her gut twisted and her heart throbbed and ached. It would be so easy.
But she feared the potential of what could happen afterward the most. She couldn't miss something she'd never had--but what if she had him? What then? What if that feeling didn't go away, and the clan got suspicious of her frequent visits to his tent, of time they spent together?
Even though he and his brother had been with them a while now, they were still outsiders. There was still the slim possibility that they could be pushed out, and that thought seized up Azalea's emotions from her core, freezing her to the bone. She couldn't imagine this tribe without Slate. Didn't want to--refused to, even.
So as she stepped closer, looking over all the males as she considered who she might pick, her gaze landed on his one last time. Her breath caught in her throat, did she dare make the decision that could ruin both of their lives, or did she ruin just hers?
"Jade."
She turned and looked away from Slate, her heart shattering as she did, as she ended her chances with a single word. Instead she looked at another male of the tribe, not terribly older than herself, who was a pretty light green, who seemed shocked that she'd said his name. They didn't really speak much, weren't particularly close, and had never had anything to say to each other. And yet here she was, placing all her hope in him that maybe he could cure her of this strange disease she refused to admit to or call by name.
"I choose Jade."
She couldn't look at Slate, and absolutely refused to. She felt fragile enough as it was, like a cracked vase just waiting to tip over and shatter into hundreds of tiny, glimmering pieces in the sand. If she looked at him, she would break. If she thought about him, she would break.
And yet as she entered Jade's tent and dropped the meager cloth that had been covering her body, seeing this male awaiting her who wasn't who she wanted, she couldn't feel more dreadful, more numb. It was the first time for both of them, and it involved a lot of awkward fumbling, frustration she had to swallow down along with her pride, and pain. At the end of it she felt disgusting, vile and ashamed, but at the very least as Jade slept on and she silently slipped from his bed, gathering her clothing, covering herself and exiting to stand at the edge of the village and stare up at the stars, she felt somewhat resolute.
She knew as the tears started falling that she hadn't been fixed. It had taken everything in her to not think of Slate the entire time; his stupid mischievous grin, his cackle, the look in his eyes when he found something new to tease her about. The way her heart throbbed and felt broken and shattered, lying in pieces at the sinking pit in her stomach. She felt twisted, sick, and wrong, for doing what she had done. But at least Slate was safe for now, until her next Choosing when she'd have to pick someone else.
She swallowed down another heavy sob, wiping furiously at the tears under her eyes as she tried to soothe herself with a lullaby one of the other females had sang to her when she was young. Her fingertips reached down to touch at the wound on the back of her leg, which had reopened and started to bleed again at some point during the night, but she couldn't bring herself to go to Slate's tent and ask him to fix it for her.
Not when she couldn't look him in the eyes. Not when she smelled like someone else. Not when she felt like this.