“If you ever leave me,” he continued, fingertips tracing the line of my jaw, “I will bring you home. No matter what. No matter how long it takes.”
A shiver ran down my spine—not entirely unpleasant.
“How?” The question escaped before I could trap it behind my teeth.
His thumb brushed my lower lip. “By whatever means necessary.”
The words hung between us, neither threat nor promise, simply fact. In the world he moved through, possession wasn’t negotiable.
“I chose you,” I reminded him.
“And I chose you.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “The difference is that I’ve known from the moment we met exactly how far I’d go to keep what’s mine.”
Behind us, the reception continued—champagne flutes clinking, conversations buzzing, music thrumming through the floor. Yet in this corner of the terrace, reality seemed suspended, as if we existed in a pocket outside normal time.
I studied his face—the sharp cut of his jaw, the slight shadow of stubble, the single vein visible at his temple. We’d known each other for months, but in many ways, we were strangers. I’d glimpsed fragments of him—enough to know the man I’d married had parts of himself I’d barely begun to explore.
“Earlier today, I was thinking about how strange it is that I’ve only known you for just under a year.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Regret?”
“No.” I laid my palm against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the immaculate tuxedo. “Just a fact.”
“Seven months is nothing,” he said, covering my hand with his. “We have lifetimes ahead of us.”
“Lifetimes,” I echoed, wondering if he meant it literally.
His eyes, so startling in their intensity, never left mine as he lowered his head. “Forever,” he whispered against my lips.
When he kissed me, it was with devastating tenderness—as though beneath my skin lay something infinitely precious he feared bruising. I leaned into him, arms finding their way around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. His hands settled at my waist, fingertips pressing into silk with barely contained restraint.
Around us, the world continued its orbit—champagne flowed, cake was cut, and somewhere inside the reception hall, Dominions celebrated our union with calculated enthusiasm. But in this moment, none of it mattered. Not my father’s grim presence, not Danielle’s spite, not even the dark promises Alaric had just made.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Magic had transformed the suite beyond recognition.
The four-poster bed waited beneath cascading white orchids and verdant vines, backlit by tiny lights that mimicked stars caught in a net. Candlelight danced across marble, softening the darkness that gathered in each corner. Wine-red sheets draped the mattress, not just a color but a confession, fabric that had heard and kept countless whispered promises.
Roses perfumed the air, mingling with something deeper, Sandalwood. The scent I'd come to recognize as his.
I lingered by the window, watching the city's jeweled lights spread beneath us.
My fingers curled around cool crystal, the sweet liquid inside doing little to calm the flutter beneath my ribs that I wouldn't acknowledge, even to myself.
Beneath my dress, black lace clung to my skin like temptation with intent—hearts stitched into the cups and garter as if mocking the idea that anything about tonight was innocent. I would’ve laughed if my pulse hadn’t been so loud.
Alaric watched me from where he stood near the bed, one hand in his suit pocket, the other carrying his glass of rum. The tuxedo jacket was already gone; the vest hung open. His tie was loose. He looked nothing like the man who’d stood before the Dominion hours ago.
He looked likemyhusband.
How I wound up with one of those that wasn’t my father’s age was a miracle. His gaze dragged over me, slow enough that I felt it like fingers trailing heat along my skin.
“You’re avoiding me,” he observed, amused.
I took another sip, heat curling in my stomach. “Just giving you a moment to take it all in.”
His laughter came soft as he set his glass down on the nearest table and crossed the room with the unhurried calm he carried.